"There on the wide window seat was the self-supporting cat."
"There!" Mary Rose pointed a proud finger as she stopped before the window.
"He is a beauty," Miss Thorley was honest enough to say. Her sense of color was delighted at the play of sunshine on George Washington's gray overcoat which had caught a warm glow from the red asters. "Wake him up, Mary Rose. You really can't see a cat asleep any more than you can a baby."
"Shall I?" Mary Rose would never in the world have disturbed a sleeping baby and for the same reason she hesitated before a sleeping cat. And while she hesitated Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary came in and their voices woke George Washington. He sprang up, artfully eluding bowl and ferns, and stood in the sunlight stretching himself. He looked at Mary Rose and at Miss Thorley and at Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary with his calm yellow eyes.
"That's a lot better than waking him," Mary Rose clapped her hands. "I can't bear to waken anyone for fear of interrupting a dream. Sometimes," she went on thoughtfully, "I'd give most anything to know what's inside of George Washington's mind. He looks so wise. Isn't he splendid?" she asked Miss Thorley, who had flushed uncomfortably when Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary came in and who now was standing rather stiffly conscious, wishing with all her heart she had never come. Mary Rose caught her cat and brought him to Miss Thorley. "You tell her how self-supporting he is?" she asked Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary in a voice that reeked with pride.
"I think I can tell that story better than Aunt Mary." And lo and behold, there was Mr. Jerry himself in the doorway, an unusual color in his brown cheeks, a reproachful look in his eye.
Miss Thorley's face had more color than usual, also, as she bowed coldly, but Mary Rose flew to take his hand.
"I'm so glad you came back. We saw you drive away but we had to come now for Miss Thorley's going to be so awfully busy that she couldn't come for weeks and weeks."
"Is she?" Mr. Jerry looked oddly at Miss Thorley, but Miss Thorley refused to look at him. "The best laid plans of mice and men," he said meaningly and paused until Mary Rose squeezed his hand.
"Are you telling her about George Washington?" she whispered.
He laughed and after a moment a faint smile lifted the corners of Miss Thorley's lips. Mr. Jerry drew a sigh of relief and sat down.
"That's better," he said. "No, Mary Rose, I was not just then referring to George Washington, but I can assure you that he is untiringly on the job. He brought a dead mouse to me at six o'clock this morning. At six o'clock!" impressively. "I thought I had the nightmare when I opened my eyes and saw old George standing there with a mouse in his mouth. He's working overtime. He should take a rest. He'll injure his health if he attends too strictly to business, Mary Rose."
"I know." Mary Rose nodded a wise head. "Too much work doesn't make good red blood. Aunt Kate was just telling us, wasn't she, Miss Thorley, that all the money you make won't buy good times nor red blood. She was telling us that very thing not ten minutes ago." Mary Rose was overjoyed to hear Mr. Jerry confirm what Aunt Kate had said. Now, of course, Miss Thorley would have to believe that it was true.
"Your Aunt Kate is a very wise, wise woman. It's a pity others can't see it." He sighed and looked at Miss Thorley, who stroked George Washington's gray overcoat and refused to lift her eyes to meet his.
"If they could they'd have old heads on young shoulders, perhaps," suggested Mary Rose. "You wouldn't like that, would you? Just suppose Mrs. Schuneman's head was on Miss Thorley's shoulders. How would you like that?"
"I shouldn't like it at all. I shouldn't want any head on Miss Thorley's shoulders but her very own. It suits me there—perfectly." Mr. Jerry eyed Miss Thorley rather critically and screwed his eyes half shut as Miss Thorley did when she was looking at the model she was painting, and his voice was as firm as a voice could be. "Even to have her as wise as your Aunt Kate I shouldn't want her to have Mrs. Schuneman's head."
"And just suppose you had Mr. Wells' head and he had yours?" giggled Mary Rose.
Mr. Jerry tweaked her pink ear. "Mr. Wells wouldn't keep my head for a minute. Perhaps it is just as well to leave heads where they are."
"I used to want to change mine," Mary Rose confided to them soberly. "You know I've millions of freckles and my hair's as straight as a string. Nobody ever thinks I'm pretty like Gladys. One day Mrs. Evans told me that pretty is as pretty does and for almost a week I did my best to do pretty, the very prettiest I knew how. But no one ever stopped and said, 'What a beautiful child,' as they do when they see Gladys. Gladys is afraid of dogs and she screams when she sees a mouse. She's even afraid of her tables. So I tried to think I had more real good times by being brave instead of beautiful. Oh!" she broke off with a squeal of delight, for Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary brought in a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of little cakes gay with white and pink frosting. "Oh, Miss Thorley! aren't you glad now that you came?"