Usually Rosanna took forever to dress. She was really not at all nice about it. Big girl as she was, Minnie always dressed her, and she would scriggle her toes so her stockings wouldn't go on, and would hop up and down so the b.u.t.tons wouldn't b.u.t.ton. It was very exasperating and she should have been soundly spanked for it: but of course Minnie, who was paid generous wages, only said, "Now, Miss Rosanna, don't you bother poor Minnie that-a way!"

This morning, however, she was out of bed and into the cold plunge without being pushed and she actually _helped_ with her stockings. She was ready for breakfast so soon that Minnie said, "Well, well, Miss Rosanna, looks like it does you good to have your grandmother go 'way!"

With one thing and another, she did not get a chance to go down to the overhanging tree until after luncheon.

She peered eagerly up.

Helen was there, curled up on a big bough, a book in her lap and a gray kitten playing around her.

"Here I am!" said Rosanna, smiling.

"And here am I," answered Helen, smiling back.

"Did you expect me sooner?" asked Rosanna.

"No; I was hoping you wouldn't come. I suppose you never have things to do, but I am a very busy little girl. I help mother, and practice my music, and she is teaching me to sew and cook. Of course we have cooking at school but no one can cook like mother, and I want to be just like her. I told her about you last night, and she said you could borrow her whenever you wanted to."

"I too have things to do," said Rosanna, who felt as though she ought to be of some use since Helen was so industrious. "When I get through with my bath mornings Minnie dresses me--"

"_Dresses_ you?" exclaimed Helen in astonishment. "Why, Rosanna, can't you dress yourself?"

Rosanna felt a queer sort of shame. "I never tried," she confessed, "but I am sure I could."

"Of course you could," said Helen briskly. "The b.u.t.tons and things in the back are hard, but my mother makes most of my things slip-on so I can manage everything. Why don't you try to dress yourself, Rosanna?

You wouldn't want folks to know that you couldn't, would you? Of course you don't mind my knowing, because I am your friend and I will never tell; but you wouldn't want most people to know?"

Rosanna had never thought about it at all, but now it seemed a very babyish and helpless thing. She determined to dress herself in future.

To change the subject she said, "Why don't you come down into the garden? I want to show you my playhouse and the pony."

"I'd love to," said Helen, and slid rapidly down the tree and out of sight behind the brick wall.

Rosanna heard her light footsteps running up the stairs leading to the apartment over the garage. She sat down on the rustic seat and waited as patiently as she could. It seemed a long time before Helen appeared at the little gate in the wall.

"Mother thinks that you ought to ask your grandmother if she would like to have me come and see you," she said, looking very grave.

"Oh, that's all right!" said Rosanna. "Grandmother has gone away, and she said the very last thing that I could have somebody come and see me whenever I wanted."

"But did she say me?" Helen persisted. "My father drives for your grandmother and perhaps she may think we are not rich and grand enough for you."

"Why, no, she didn't say _you_. She didn't say _any_body. She said I might have anyone I like, and I like you. It is all right. You can ask Minnie; she heard her say I could have company. She doesn't know you, you see, so she _couldn't_ say that you were the one to come. She told me 'some little girl.'"

"That sounds all right," said Helen. "I will go tell mother. She was not sure I ought to come." She disappeared once more through the little gate, and Rosanna waited. She was not happy. Her grandmother had certainly not named any little girl, but Rosanna knew that she did not mean or intend that Rosanna should entertain the little girl who lived over the garage. Her grandmother thought every one was all right if they belonged to an old family. The first thing she ever asked Rosanna about any little girl was "What is her family?" or "Who are her people?"

Rosanna, whose conscience was troubling her in a queer way, determined to ask Helen about her family, although it seemed that was one of the things that were not very nice to do. But perhaps Helen had a family. In that case she could settle everything happily.

The children joined hands and went skipping along the path toward the playhouse, Helen's bobbed yellow locks shining in the sun and Rosanna's long, heavy, dark hair swinging from side to side as she danced along.

She led the way through the little door into the little living-room of the playhouse and stood aside as Helen cried out with wonder and pleasure.

"Oh, oh, oh, Rosanna!" the little girl exclaimed. "Oh, it is too dear!

May I please look at everything, just as though it was in a picture book?"

Helen moved from one place to another in a sort of daze. She tried the little wicker chairs one after another. She sat at the tiny desk and touched the pearl penholders and the pencils with Rosanna's name printed on them in gold letters. All the letter paper said _Rosanna_ in gold letters at the top too; it was beautiful.

The little piano was real. It played delightfully little tinkly notes almost like hitting the rim of a gla.s.s with a lead pencil. Helen was charmed. She could scarcely drag herself away to see the other wonders of the playhouse. The little dining-room was built with a bay window, which had a window seat, and a hanging basket of ferns. The little round table, the sideboard and the chairs were all painted a soft cream color, and on each chair back, and the sideboard drawers and doors sprays of tinty, tiny flowers were painted.

Helen hurried from these splendors to the kitchen. And it was a real kitchen!

"If our domestic science teacher could only see this!" groaned Helen.

The room was larger than either of the others, and there was plenty of room for two or three persons, at least for a couple of children and one grown person if she was not so very large. There was a little gas stove complete in every way, a cabinet, and a porcelain top table, as well as a white sink and draining board. The floor was covered with blue and white linoleum, and the walls were papered with blue and white tiled paper with a border of fat little Dutch ships around the top. Little white Dutch curtains hung at the windows.

"Oh my! Oh my!" sighed Helen. "This is the best of all! The other rooms you can only sit in and enjoy, but here you can really _do_ things and learn to be useful."

She opened a little cupboard door and discovered all sorts of pans and kettles made of white enamel with blue edges.

"I never come out here at all," said Rosanna.

"Perhaps they are afraid you will burn yourself," suggested Helen.

"No, the stove is a safe kind, made specially for children's playhouses, but I don't know how to cook, so I don't play in the kitchen at all.

Make-believe dinners are no fun."

Helen gave a happy sigh.

"Well, _I_ can cook," she said, "and I will teach you how."

"Won't that be fun!" said Rosanna. She suddenly threw her arms around Helen's neck and kissed her. "Oh, Helen, I am so happy," she said.

CHAPTER IV

After Helen had looked the wonderful kitchen over to her heart's content, the children went back to the pretty living-room, where they examined the books in the little bookcase, and then each carrying a comfy wicker chair, went out on the wide porch. A big gra.s.s rug was spread there, and there was a little porch swing and a wicker table.

Rosanna commenced to tell Helen about herself. She told much more than she intended, and by the time she had finished, Helen knew more about her new friend than Rosanna's own grandmother had ever guessed.

Helen herself was a very happy, busy little girl, with wise and loving parents. They were poor, and Mr. Culver had very wisely taken the first position that offered as soon as he came home from France and found that the firm he had formerly worked for had given his position to some one else, a man much less capable than Mr. Culver and who worked willingly for wages that Mr. Culver did not feel like accepting. Yes, they were poor, but as Mr. Culver said, "Just you wait, folkses; this will be fun to remember some day." And Mrs. Culver called it "our school" and told Helen that they must both strive to know the best and easiest way of doing everything while they had to do all for themselves.

Helen's eyes filled with tears when she heard of the death of Rosanna's young father and mother in a railroad accident when she was such a little thing that now she could scarcely remember them.

"And then you came to live with your grandmother?" she said, struggling not to go to Rosanna and hug her tight. A little girl without mother or father! It was too dreadful.

"Yes, she came to the hospital and as soon as I was well--I was just scratched up a little--she brought me here."

"Well," said Helen briskly, "it must be fine to have a grandmother. I suppose grandmothers are 'most exactly as good as mothers," she went on, trying to make light of Rosanna's misfortune. "I expect they cuddle you and play with you and hold you 'most exactly like mothers."