CHAPTER IX
A Surprise
JEAN and Bettie flew to one window, Marjory to the other. Mabel wantedto fly, too, but she remained faithfully at her post, feeling quitecheered by her own heroism.
"It's dark gray trousers with a crease in 'em; not skirts," announcedMarjory, peering under the edge of the shade.
"Probably a man from the asylum," shuddered Bettie. "Let's keep verystill. He may think that this is the wrong house and go somewhere else."
"But," objected Jean, "he'll only come back again."
"Yes," sighed Bettie. "I s'pose we will have to open the door. You doit, Marjory."
"I don't want to," returned Marjory, unexpectedly shrinking. "It seemstoo much like giving Rosa Marie into the hands of the enemy. Afterall, we're going to miss her dreadfully and Mabel'll be just aboutbroken-hearted. She _does_ get so attached to things--Oh! He's ringingagain."
"We'll have to unlock the door," sighed Jean, placing her hand on thekey, "but dearie me, I feel just as Marjory does about it. Knit fast,Mabel."
The key turned in the lock, but the girls did not need to open thedoor; the visitor did that. Then there were rapturous cries of "Mr.Black! Mr. Black!"
Mabel wanted to greet Mr. Black, too, for there was nobody in the worldthat was kinder to little girls than the stout gentleman who had justopened their door; but she remembered that the soldier lady (in spiteof the Dover egg-beater heart) had remained seated, placidly knitting;so Mabel likewise sat still and plied her crochet hook.
"Hi, hi!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "What are you all locked in for? Andhere I had to ring four times when I came with a present--apples rightoff the top of my own barrel. Began to be afraid I'd have to eat themall myself, you were so long letting me in."
"If we'd guessed that it was you and apples," said Marjory, "we'd havemet you at the gate."
"Where's the other girl?" asked Mr. Black's big, cheery voice. "Doesn'tshe like apples, too?"
"In the kitchen," chorused Jean, Marjory and Bettie.
"Bless my soul!" said Mr. Black, striding kitchenward, "here she is,knitting like any old lady. Aren't you coming in here to eat appleswith the rest of us?"
"Can't," mumbled Mabel.
"What's the matter, grandma?" teased Mr. Black. "Rheumatism troublingyou to-day?"
"Nope," returned Mabel.
"Lost all your teeth?"
"Nope."
"Are you knitting me a pair of socks or is it mittens?"
"Just a chain," replied Mabel, suddenly beaming. "But, Mr. Black, doesit really look as if I were knitting?"
"Precisely," smiled Mr. Black. "So much so that you remind me of thestory of the woman who sat on the trap door and knitted--By Jove! That_is_ a trap door! Here's the ring sticking up."
The girls shot a quick glance at the floor. Then they gazed guiltily atone another. Sure enough! The tell-tale ring stood upright, ready foruse. No one had thought to conceal it.
"Is there a wounded soldier down there?" asked Mr. Black, jokingly.
"No!" shouted all four with suspicious haste.
The deep silence that followed was suddenly punctuated by a muffledsneeze from Rosa Marie. Undoubtedly, some of the pepper dislodged fromthe crack in the floor had sifted down to the prisoner.
The faces of the four girls flushed guiltily. Mr. Black lookedwonderingly at the little group. It was plain that something was wrong.Jean, who had always met her friend's glance with level, truthful eyes,was now looking most sheepishly at her own toes. Bettie, hithertoalways ready to tell the whole truth, was now fiddling evasively withthe corner of her apron. Marjory's fair skin was crimson; her usuallyfrank blue eyes were intent on something under the kitchen table.
"Is there some sort of an animal in that cellar?" demanded Mr. Black.
Rosa Marie chose this moment to give another large sneeze.
"Is it something you're afraid of?" demanded Mr. Black.
"'Fraid of losing," mumbled Mabel, shamefacedly. Poor Mabel realizedonly too well that she, with her knitting and her too-perfect playingof the part, had given the secret away; and she felt all the bitternessof failure.
Seizing the back of Mabel's chair, Mr. Black drew it swiftly off thetrap door. In another moment, he had the door open.
Rosa Marie, blinking at the sudden light, bobbed upward. Mr. Blackinvoluntarily started back from the opening.
"What under heavens is that!" he gasped. "A monkey?"
And, indeed, the error was a perfectly natural one, for all he had beenable to see was a tousled head of hair, beneath which gleamed smallblack eyes.
"I should say not!" blazed Mabel. "It's my little girl--my Rosa Marie."
"Does she bite? Is she dangerous? Is that why you treat her likepotatoes?"
"Most certainly not," returned Mabel, with dignity. "She's an Indian."
"Bless me!" said Mr. Black, leaning cautiously forward. "Let's have alook at her."
Now that the secret was out, everybody eagerly clutched some portion ofRosa Marie's clothing. She was drawn, with some difficulty and sundrytearings of cloth, from the "Soldier's Retreat." Mabel cuddled theblinking small person in her lap.
"Did you pick her up in the woods?" asked Mr. Black, "or did you simplykidnap her? Or, dreadful thought! Did you order her by number from somecatalogue? And did they charge you full price?"
Then Mabel, helped by the other three, told all that they knew of thehistory of Rosa Marie; and of Mabel's affection for the queer brownbaby. They told him everything. Mabel, with visions of the orphanasylum's doors yawning to engulf precious Rosa Marie, considered ita very sad story. She felt grieved and indignant because Mr. Black,instead of sympathizing, laughed until his sides shook. Even thepathetic diet of liver, codfish and prunes seemed to amuse him.
"What would you have said if your mothers had asked you where thischild was?" inquired Mr. Black presently. "I mean, when you had herdown cellar?"
Jean looked at Bettie, Bettie looked at Marjory, Marjory looked atMabel.
"We never thought of that," confessed Bettie.
"Oh," groaned Mabel, holding Rosa Marie closer, "our plan isn't anygood after all. We'd have to tell the truth if they asked; we alwaysdo."
"Yes," said Jean, "they'd get it out of us at once."
"Even," teased Marjory, shrewdly, "if Mabel, sitting upon that trapdoor, were not every bit as good as a printed sign."
"Never mind," soothed Jean, slipping an arm about Mabel's shoulders,"we'd rather be honest than smart, since we can't be both."
Mabel needed soothing. She sat still and made no sound; but largetears were rolling down her cheeks and splashing on Rosa Marie'sblack head. Mr. Black regarded them thoughtfully. He noticed too thatMabel's moderately white hand was closed tightly over Rosa Marie'sbrown fingers. It reminded him, some way, of his own youthful agonyover parting with a puppy that he had not been allowed to keep--he hadalways regretted that puppy.
Suddenly the front door, propelled by some unseen force, opened fromwithout to admit the three mothers and Aunty Jane, followed closely byMr. Tucker, Dr. Bennett and two young women in nurses' uniform. Theycrowded into the little parlor and filled it to overflowing. None ofthe Cottagers said a word; but Mabel, tears still rolling down hercheeks, silently clasped both arms tightly about Rosa Marie's body. Itbegan to look as if Rosa Marie would have to be taken by force.
"It's all arranged," announced Mrs. Bennett, breathlessly. "The asylumis willing to take her and she is to go at once with these youngladies. Come, Mabel, don't be foolish. Take your arms away. You'rebehaving very badly--There, there, I'll buy you something."
"You're just a little too late," said Mr. Black, keeping watchfuleyes on Mabel's speaking countenance. "I've decided to take theresponsibility of Rosa Marie into my own hands."
The Adopting of Rosa Marie Page 10
