At three o'clock Janet appeared and Rosie and she started out together. Rosie had been gone only three weeks but, in that short time, changes had come about, events had occurred, which had altered irrevocably the face of her little world. Within the limits of her own short paper route the whole cycle of existence had turned. Life had been ushered in, life had passed out, and that closest of human pacts which is the promise of life to succeeding generations had been entered into.
Janet McFadden was voluble. "It turned out to be twins at the Flannigans, Rosie, and they just had an awful time. The doctor said that poor Mis' Flannigan was too hard-worked before they came and that's why they're so weak and sickly. Ain't it just tough the way poor little babies have to pay up for things like that?... And you know about Jake Mullane dying last week, don't you? It was sunstroke and I suppose he had been drinking and he just went that quick. They certainly had a swell funeral with six carriages and plumes and tassels on the horses and Lucy and Katie and even the baby dressed in black. But doesn't it kind of scare you, Rosie, to think of a big strong man like Jake being dead and buried before you can turn around?... And, say, Rosie, I do wish you had been here to see the wedding! It was just beautiful! Bessie had a veil and pink roses and smilax and Ed Haskins hired three carriages for the day. There were white ribbons on the whips and little white bows behind the horses' ears. Maybe you think they didn't look swell! They rode around town from ten o'clock in the morning until midnight. Jarge Riley saw them coming home and he says they were lying all over each other fast asleep. I'm not surprised at that, are you? Bessie's in her own little flat now. It isn't any bigger than a soap-box but she's got it all fixed up and pretty. She took me through and showed me her dishes and everything. They furnished on twenty-five dollars down and a dollar a week for a year. I guess Ed Haskins is going to be a good provider all right...."
Janet chatted on, pausing only to let people greet Rosie. Rosie's progress that afternoon was something of a reception. Every one who saw her stopped to call out: "Back again, Rosie? Awful glad to see you!" or, "Hello, kid! How's the country?" It gave Rosie the very pleasant feeling that she had been missed during her absence.
At the end of the route when they came to Danny Agin's cottage, they found old Mary Agin near the gate, busied over her flowers. At sight of Rosie, she stood up, tall and gaunt, and held out welcoming hands.
"Ah, Rosie dear, it's glad I am to see you! And himself will be glad as well when he hears you're back." Mrs. Agin was an undemonstrative old woman but she bent now and kissed Rosie on the forehead.
"How is Danny, Mis' Agin?" Rosie asked. "Is he pretty well?"
"Pretty well, do ye say? Ah, Rosie—" and Mary Agin paused while her eyes half closed as if in pain.
"I forgot to tell you," Janet whispered; "Danny's been awful sick."
"And for two weeks," Mary Agin said, "the great fear was on me day and night that he'd be shlippin' away and me left a sad lonely old woman with nobody to talk to but the cat.... Will ye come in and see him, Rosie? The sight of you will do him a world of good, for he's mighty fond of you and he's been askin' for you every day. Just run along in for a minute and say 'Howdy.' Janet'll wait out here with me."
Rosie found Danny propped up at the bedroom window. The colour of his round apple cheeks had faded, their plumpness had fallen in, but on sight of Rosie the twinkle returned to his little blue eyes and he raised a knotted rheumatic hand in welcome.