"If it hadn't been for her I'd never have kept my job this summer," he told Miss Carter and Miss Thorley, one night after Mary Rose had gone. "The old man liked the stuff she told me and it gave me a chance to show what I could do. I've a regular run now and a regular salary." He looked across at Miss Carter and colored a bit. "My foot's on the ladder now for keeps."
Miss Carter laughed and colored a bit, too, as she hoped that his foot was there "for keeps." Miss Thorley caught the exchange of glances with an odd little contraction of her heart. Was that the way the wind was blowing? Funny she hadn't noticed anything before. If Blanche went away she would be left alone—alone with her work and her independence. She shivered involuntarily. Once that had been all she wanted. Why didn't they satisfy her now? They should satisfy her. She'd work harder than ever on jam advertisements and when she had saved a lot of money she'd go to New York and get a big position and some people would have to admit that it would have been a waste to tie her down to a humdrum—what was it Mary Rose had said?—"home for a family." Her lip curled with scorn. Mary Rose was only a child. She didn't know that homes and families were not the most important things in the world. Someone else had told her what was the most important, but she would not think of him. She just would not. And anyway all he wanted now was friendship. Men were so constant. Her nose tilted. She felt so much more scorn than a curled lip could express that her nose had to tilt. But until she could save a lot of money and go to New York she would stay right there in the Washington and listen to Mary Rose's experiences at the Lincoln School.
"It isn't like the school at Mifflin one bit, but I like it just the same. And I've made a lot of new friends. I never realized how you needed friends your own age until today. I've managed very well and been happy until—until," she gulped as she remembered what had happened to make her unhappy, "the other day, but it's such fun to have friends your own size. There's that girl at Mrs. Bracken's. She's older and bigger than I am, but Mrs. Bracken said we could be friends and there isn't as much difference as there is between me and Grandma Johnson. And we're friends. There's a boy with only one leg in my class," importantly. "He's going to tell me how he lost the other one tomorrow. And a girl, Anna Paulovitch. Isn't that a funny name? She was born in O-Odessa, Russia. I never knew anyone who was born in Russia before. It's very interesting. Do you know," her voice dropped to a whisper, "that two years ago she lost all of her hair. She was sick and it disappeared until now there isn't even a single solitary hair on any part of her head. It's as bare, as bare," she looked about for a comparison but could not find one that would suit her, "as anything could be bare. It's very strange."
"And does she go to school without any hair?" asked Bob Strahan, trying to visualize Anna Paulovitch's bare pate.
"Oh, no! You can't go to school without hair. So last summer Anna picked berries for a farmer and saved every penny and soon she had enough to buy a wig. Her own hair was black and she hated it. She always wanted yellow curls and so when she bought her wig she bought long yellow curls. They're perfectly beautiful. You'd never guess they didn't grow on her own head. She showed me because I'm her friend. We're in the same number class."
"Ye gods! Long yellow curls on a swart-faced black-eyed Russian." Bob Strahan laughed at the combination.
Miss Carter looked at him reproachfully as she swung the conversation to the safe subject of Mrs. Bracken's niece.
"I wonder what Mr. Wells will have to say about her?" she asked.
"He can't steal her canary for she hasn't one," muttered Bob Strahan.
Mary Rose caught the words, low as they were uttered.