"Mary Rose was perched on a chair across from him and was telling him of Mifflin."
"Why—why," gasped Mrs. Bracken. She could not say another word. She forgot all about the big piece of her mind that she was going to give Mary Rose and stood there staring with bulging eyes.
Mary Rose jumped to the floor. "Here's Mrs. Bracken!" she cried in delight. "Isn't it a pity we didn't know she was coming? I could just as well have boiled another egg. But there's plenty of tea. It's like a party, isn't it? Except that we haven't any birthday candles. In Mifflin I always had candles on my birthday cake because daddy said a birthday should be like a candle, a light to guide you into the new year. Shall I boil an egg for you, Mrs. Bracken?"
Mrs. Bracken sat down suddenly in the chair Mary Rose had vacated and murmured helplessly: "Well, upon my word!"
"That's what I said," smiled Mr. Bracken, which wasn't exactly true although the words he had used meant the same thing, "when I came home and found a girl and a bird on the davenport."
"I locked myself in," Mary Rose explained with a shamed face. "I was careless and left the key on the outside. Mr. Bracken should have scolded me but he didn't. We've been the best friends and had the nicest time together and now it's going to be nicer because you're here."
She beamed on first one and then the other as she bustled about finding a plate and a knife and fork, making the toast that Mrs. Bracken thought she would prefer to bread and all the time talking in a friendly fashion. She never doubted that what interested her would interest others.
At first Mrs. Bracken regarded her helplessly, as Mr. Bracken had done, but gradually the look of irritation disappeared and at last a smile took its place. It was strange to share a lunch of boiled eggs and tea on the kitchen table with Joseph Bracken. She had not done that since they were first married and were moving into their first home. She hadn't thought of it for years but now it was oddly pleasant to remember the little details of a time before she had been absorbed by clubs and he by business. Neither she nor Mr. Bracken had much to say but Mary Rose talked enough for three. She waited on them with a solicitude that forced them to eat and when they had finished she sent them into the other room.
"I'll wash up. It won't take me a minute."
So, because she told them to, Mr. and Mrs. Bracken drifted into the other room and left her alone with Jenny Lind. Mr. Bracken did not take his hat and mutter that he would be back for dinner. He walked over to the window and stood looking down the street. At last he turned around and looked at his wife who was sitting on the davenport as if she were tired.
"Elsie," he said abruptly, "what ever became of your niece?"
She looked up in surprise. "You mean Harriet White? She's living with the Norrises in Prairieville."
"Wouldn't you like to have her here?" he asked suddenly. "It doesn't seem just right—decent—to let strangers look after your own relations."
Her eyes opened wider. He had never seemed to think whether it was decent or not until now. "But we can't have her here. That was the trouble after her mother died. Children aren't allowed in the house and we didn't want to move."
"How old is she?"
"Thirteen or fourteen. I'm not just sure which."
"A girl of thirteen isn't a child. Send for her, Elsie, and if anyone objects, we can move. But I guess a tenant means something to a landlord and there won't be any objections. We need her, Elsie, as much as she needs us. We need someone young with us. That kid," he nodded toward the kitchen where Mary Rose was lustily singing the many verses of "Where Have You Been, Billy Boy?" "has made me realize what we are missing. Why she fussed around me as if—as if," he colored slightly, "as if I were her father. No, it isn't anything new. I've been thinking for some time that we aren't getting all we should out of life. You give your time and strength to clubs and I give mine to business and what does it amount to? What are we working for? Abstract people aren't the same as your own flesh and blood. What we need is something to bring us together and if Hattie White is anything like that kid she'll keep us good and busy."
Mrs. Bracken slipped across the room and put her hand on his arm. "I'll be glad to send for her, Joe. I haven't felt just right to leave her with the Whites but I thought you didn't want her and I told myself that my first duty was to you. I'll write today. No, I'll go for her, if you don't mind."
"That's a good girl." His arm slipped around her waist.
Out in the kitchen Mary Rose brought her song to an abrupt close. She thrust her head in the doorway. "I'm all through. Didn't I say it wouldn't take a jiffy? It's been very pleasant but Aunt Kate'll be wondering where I am and so will Grandma Johnson. Good-by."
"Good-by," they chorused. "Come again," they added, as if they couldn't help but speak the hospitable words.
"I shall," Mary Rose called back. "Sure, I'll come again."