Rosemary.

by Josephine Lawrence.

CHAPTER I

GOOD NEWS

The Willis house was very quiet. The comfortable screened porch was deserted, though a sweater in the hammock and a box of gay paper dolls on the floor showed that it had served as a play-s.p.a.ce recently. Inside, not a door banged, not a footfall sounded.

The late afternoon June sunshine streamed in through the hall window and made a broad band to the stairway which was in the shadow. The light touched the heads of three girls huddled closely together in the cushioned window-seat and turned the hair of one to gleaming, burnished golden red, another to a fairy web of spun yellow silk and searched out the faint copper tint in the dark locks of the third.

The girls sat motionless, their faces turned toward the stairs, as silent as everything else in that silent house.

"Rosemary!" whispered the dark-haired one suddenly, "Rosemary, you don't think--"

The girl with the gold-red hair, who sat between the other two, started nervously. Her violet blue eyes transferred their anxious gaze from the shadowy staircase to her sister's face.

"Oh, no!" she said pa.s.sionately. "No! Do you hear me, Sarah? That couldn't happen to us. Why do you say such things?"

"I didn't say anything," protested Sarah sullenly. "Did I, Shirley?"

The little girl with the fairy-web of yellow hair did not answer.

She started from her seat and ran toward the stairs.

"Hugh's coming!" she cried.

Quick, even steps sounded on the hardwood treads and a young man with dark hair, darker eyes behind eye-gla.s.ses and a keen, intelligent face, descended rapidly. He picked up the child and strode across the hall to the window-seat.

"Poor children!" he said compa.s.sionately, sitting down beside Rosemary and holding the younger girl in his lap. "Has the time seemed long? I came as quickly as I could."

Rosemary looked at him piteously.

"All right, dear," he said instantly. "Mother is going to get well.

Dr. Hurlbut and I have decided that all she needs is a long rest. I am going to take her to a quiet place in the country day after to-morrow and she is to stay until she is entirely recovered. Why Rosemary!"

The gold-red head was on his shoulder and Rosemary was crying as though her heart would break.

"That's the way she is," said the dark and placid Sarah. "She jumps on me if I say anything and then she cries herself sick thinking things. I would rather," she declared with peculiar distinctness, "have folks talk than think, wouldn't you, Hugh?"

"I'm sorry to say I can't agree with you," replied the young man briefly. "Here, Shirley, I didn't know you were such a heavy-weight--you run off with Sarah and tell Winnie what I have told you about Mother. Quietly now, and no shouting. Rosemary, dear," he put a protecting arm around the weeping girl, "you will feel better now--we have all been under a strain and the worst is over. Here comes Miss Graham with Dr. Hurlbut and I must see him off. Don't run--he'll probably go right out without seeing you."

But the famous specialist stopped squarely in the hall and the pleasant-faced middle-aged nurse, standing respectfully on the lower step, nodded rea.s.suringly to Rosemary who was frantically mopping her eyes.

"Well, Dr. Willis," said the great man heartily, "I am mighty glad to have been of some little service. I'm sure you will find Pine Crest sanatorium all that it is said to be and the right place for your mother. She mustn't be allowed, of course, to worry about home affairs. There are younger children, I believe?"

"Three girls," said Hugh Willis. "Rosemary--" he summoned her with a glance,--"my sister, Dr. Hurlbut."

Dr. Hurlbut shook hands kindly letting his quizzical gray eyes rest a moment longer on the tear-stained face.

"Ah, we cry because of past sorrow," he said quietly, "and, a little, because of present joy; is it not so?"

Rosemary lifted her head in quick understanding, tossing back her magnificent mane and showing her violet blue eyes still wet with tears. She smiled radiantly and her face was vivid, glowing, almost startling in its beauty.

"I am so happy!" she said clearly, and her girl-voice held a note of pure joyousness. "So happy that I do not think I can ever be unhappy again!"

The two doctors smiled a little in sympathy.

"Ah, well," said the famous specialist, after a moment's silence, gently, "let us hope so."

He turned toward the door and the younger man went with him to the handsome car drawn up at the curb. Rosemary, with a swift hug for Miss Graham, dashed past her upstairs to her own room, always a haven in time of happiness or stress.

"Mother is going to get well!" whispered the girl, starry-eyed. "All she needs is rest, and then she will be quite well again. Cora Mason's mother died--" the expressive face sobered and, sitting on the edge of her pretty white bed, Rosemary's twelve-year old mind filled with somber thoughts. Presently she slipped noiselessly to her knees and buried her curly head in the comforting cool white pillow.

"Dear G.o.d--" she began, but the tide of joy and relief began to beat loudly again in her heart, sending rich waves of color into her hidden face.

"I am so happy," prayed Rosemary tumultuously. "I am so happy! I am so happy!"

Presently she rose and dragged her white shoes from the closet.

Sitting in the middle of the floor, she started contentedly cleaning them.

"Rosemary?" sounded a little voice. "Rosemary, you in here?"

Rosemary straightened up so that she could see across the bed which stood between her and the doorway.

"Yes, Shirley darling," she answered. "Did you tell Winnie about mother?"

"Yes," said Shirley scrambling upon the bed. "We told her. What you doing, Sister?"

"Cleaning my white shoes," replied Rosemary, applying whitener vigorously. "I'm going to put them on and wear my white linen dress.

Don't you want to dress up to-night, Shirley? Bring me your shoes, if they are dirty, and I'll do them for you."

"All right, I'll get them," decided Shirley, sliding off the bed backward. "Could I put on my blue sash, Rosemary?"

"Not with that dress," said Rosemary firmly. "I'll have to wash your face and hands and neck and then you can wear the cross-bar muslin with the lace yoke."

"Are you up here, Rosemary?" demanded another voice. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning my shoes," said Rosemary patiently. "Say, Sarah, don't you think it would be nice if we dressed up a little for dinner to-night?"

"Why?" asked Sarah bluntly.

"Oh, because--because, well, we know Mother is going to get well,"

explained Rosemary. "And everything has been in such a mess this week, the table half set and n.o.body caring whether they ate or not.

I'd like to show Hugh that we can have things done properly."

"What difference does it make?" drawled Sarah lazily. "I hate a lot of fuss, you know I do. Rosemary, do you suppose it hurts worms to use them for fishing bait? Will you ask Jack Welles?"

"I'll ask him the next time I see him, if you will put on your tan linen with the red tie," promised Rosemary. "And do brush your hair back the way Mother likes it, Sarah. She can't bear to see it stringing into your eyes."