Cheerful—By Request

tel as you've seen it done in English plays, and blew a pract

Been meaning to meet and tell you that for a long time. Your characterization's all right, and your

re interesting than their outsides; that which they think or feel s

young cub, briskly

ever was. There never will be. Compared to the drab monotony of Ro

ally pink and white and velvety. It is a risky thing to do, however. Think back hastily on the Roses

m as is the life of a Georgia cracker's woman-drudge. Rose was one of these. An unwed woman, grown heavy about the hips and arms, as houseworking women

demanding another hot water bag. Rose's day was punctuated by hot water bags. They dotted her waking hours. She filled hot water bags automatically, like a machine-water half-way to the top, then one hand clu

, Ma? Where'd you want i

ose. The L trains roared by, not thirty feet from her kitchen door. Alley and yard and street sent up their noises to her. The life of Ch

ces stamped with the marks that come from a day spent in shop and factory. They brought with them the crumbs and hus

of doors, a banging of drawers, a clatter of tongues, quarrelling, laughter. A brief visit to the sick w

ed on to-day!" Fl

, would pause, i

, I think. I waited on her, and the other girls were wild. She bought a dozen pairs of white kids, and made me give 'em to her huge, so she could s

Rose's dull face

y falsetto from Al,

adys Moraine hat. Everything quiet, and plain, and dark; and yet she looked like a million

Madison. His was the wisdom of the snake, the weasel, and the sphinx. A strangely silent young man, this Al, thin-lipped, smooth-cheeked, perfumed. Slim of waist, flat

's son started in to learn the retail selling end of the business. Back of the

paper to stare over hi

s son! The

I'll bet he'll never get higher than the first floor. To-day he went out to lunch at one and never

Her sallow cheek would show a faint

to-morrows are all alike. Rose never opened her eyes to the dim, tantalising half-consciousness of a something delightful or a something harrowing in store for her that day. For one to whom the wash-woman's Tuesday

does the chirping of the birds the farmer's daughter. A sensation new, yet familiar; delicious, yet painful, held her. She groped to define it, lying there. Her gaze, wandering over the expanse of the grey woollen blanket, fixed upon a small black object trembling there. The knowledge that came to her then had come, many weeks before, in a hundred subtle and exquisite ways, to those who dwell in the open places. Rose's eyes n

aggy, smoke-dwarfed oak that sprang, somehow, miraculously, from the mangey little dirt-plot in front of the building had developed surprising things all over its scrawny branches overnight. But she

it was Rose's daily duty to tear the silent family from its slumbers. Ma was always aw

eep

ven't closed an

d not to disput

rawers to-day. I'll have your coffee in a jiffy. Do you feel like

as twenty sleeps, deeply, dreamlessly, one slim bare arm outflung, the lashes resting ever so lightly on the delicate curve of cheek. As she lay there asleep in her disordered bedroom, her clothes strewing chair, dresser, floor

seven!" Floss stirred, moaned f

the sounds that proclaimed the family astir-the banging of drawers, the rush of running water, the slap of slippered feet. A peep of e

es sagging, at seven o'clock in the morning, the most trying hour in the day for a woman, Floss was still triumphantly pretty. She had on one of those absurd pink muslin nightgowns, artfully designed to look like crêpe de ch

tigating hand through to heel and toe. She plucked a soiled pink blouse off the b

e a good tim

a desperate effort, flung back the bed-clothes, swung her legs over the side of th

did you

tally, Floss was not at her best at seven o'clock on Monday mo

secleaning. I thought I'd start to-day with the closets, and the bure

interestedly, and folde

so's I can't ever find 'em again. I wish you'd press that blue

re her mother's breakfast tray. Wafted back to her came the acrid odour of Pa's matutinal

k this is, anyway

n your o

a third member of the family turned against either of them. Im

parchment-skinned woman who lay in the front bedroom. Pa had two manias: the movies, and a passion for purchasing new and complicated household

rning ads. "I see the Fair's got a spring housecleaning sale. They adverti

sted, placing his breakfast before him, "when half the time

ma d

n't thirty-two cents a pound,

d Al, from the bedroo

Floss posed as being a rather special person. She always breakfasted last, and late. Floss's was a fastidiousness which shrinks at badly served food, a spotted table-cloth, or a last year's hat, while it overlooks a rent in an undergarment or the accumulated dust in a hairbrush. Her blouse was of the sheerest. Her hair shone in waves about her delicate checks. She ate her orange, and sipped her very special

lled hot water bags, you would get a characterization of her from this: She was the sort of person who never has a closet or bureau drawer all her own. Her few and negligible garments hung apologetically in obscure corners of closets dedicated to her sister

ld never have guessed that the semi-yearly closet cleaning was to give to Rose a thrill as delicious as it was exquisitely painful. But Rose knew. And so she teased herself, and tried not to thin

apped things, so that the dust motes spun and swirled in the sunshine. Rose's arms worked up and down energetically, then less energetically, finally ceased their motion altogether. She lean

out as Rose had done. She had lived next door since October, had that woman, but the two had never exchanged a word, true to the traditions of their city training. Rose had her doubts of the

ation eagerly, hungrily. "It certainly does! Ma

day!" said Ros

, with the chagrin that only a woman know

decrepit horse drawing a dilapidated huckster's cart. Perched on the seat was a Greek who turned hi

r rhubarb sauce," Rose

e in the world," the w

ucculent green and red stalks. It was

d the box, and closed about it. A little electric thrill vibrated through her body. She stepped down from the chair, heavily, listened until her acute ear caught the sound of the sick woman's slumbrous breathing; then, box in hand, walked down the dark hall to the kitchen. The rhubarb pie, still steaming in its pan, was cooling on the kitchen table. The dishes from the invalid's lunch-tray littered the sink. But Rose, seated on the kitchen chair, her rumpled dust-cap p

ntly in the days of attics. Into the garbage can with yesterday's roses! The janitor's burlap sack yawns for this morning's mail; last year's gown has long ago met its end at the hands of the ol'-clo'es man or

sion of the actual eye. They were the letters of a commonplace man to a commonplace woman, written when they loved each other, and so they were touched with something of the divine. They must have been, else how could they have sustained this woman through fifteen years of drudgery? They were the only tangible foundatio

rs-became interminable. The breach into which Rose had stepped closed about her and became a prison. The man had waited, had grown impatient, finally rebelled. He had fled, probably, to marry a less encumbered lady. Rose had gone dully on, caring for the household, the children, the sick woman. In the years that

ttle more strongly she might have become quite mad, the Freudians would tell you. Had they held less for her, or had she not been so completely the household's slave, she might have found a certain solace and satisfaction in viewing the Greek profile and marcel wave of the most-worshipped movie star. As it was, they were h

en hastily, almost shamefacedly, sorted them (she knew each envelope by heart) tied them, placed them in their box and bore them down the hail. There, mounting her chair, she s

y force of habit, would, drop harp-strings at quarter to six, to begin laying a celestial and u

than was its wont. But Floss came in late, breathless, and radiant, a large and significant paper bag in her hand. Rose, in the kitchen, was transferring the smoking supper from pot to platter. Pa, in the doorway of the sick woman's little room, had just put his fourteen-year-old question with his usual assumption

s what!" All this as she was rushing down the hall, paper

ed a flushed and intere

at's tha

But li

s see

ag, defiantly. "There! But wa

w m

eek. Then, "Seven-fifty, trimmed." The hat was one of those

t!" jeered Al, f

th disapproval, turn

going to the theatre to-night.

ose heard it spoken now with a sense of unreality. She smiled a little uncertainly, and went on stirring the flour thickening for the gravy. But she was dimly aware that something inside her had suspended action

she said, stirring

ctures, hair a little grey at the temples, and everything, just like a movie actor. I said to Herb, 'Is it real?' I hadn't got the words out of my mouth when the fellow sees me, stands stock still in the middle of the aisle with his mouth open and his eyes sticking out. '

radiant-repeated, vibrantly, "You said, 'I'm

hen he said, 'But of course. Fifteen years. But I had always thought of her as ju

e-white," said

iving out in Spokane, and his wife was dead, and he had made a lot of money-fruit, or real estate, or something.

lu

erything. And he kept looking at me and saying, 'It's wonderful!' I said, 'Isn't it!' but I meant the lunch. He wanted me to go driving this afternoon-auto and everything. Kept cal

ating. I'm not hungry. It only take

t that money look that makes waiters and doormen and taxi drivers just hump. I don't want

ory interests me strangely, little gell. But there's a couple of other people that would like

She saw that Al and her father were served. Then she went back to the kitchen, and the thud of her iron was heard as she deftly fluted the ruffles of the crêpe blouse. Floss appeared when the meal was half eaten, her hair shiningly coiffed, the pink ribbons of her corset cover showing under her thin kimono. She poured herself a cup of tea and drank it in little quick

ickford. And so

. "Hurry up with

ere was a little silence. Then: "Floss,

meet him on the corner? He said he wanted

ith shaving brush, shirt, collar and tie was marked by disjointed bars of the newest syncopation whistled with an uncanny precision and fidelity to detail. He caught the broken t

id, his manner very casual, "guess

't you want to sit wit

hird installment of 'The Adventures of Aline,'

sprightly old man. And because he knew it he att

to a little amusement. A man works his fingers to the b

ll, righteously, and s

she went. Floss, burnishing her nails somewhat frantically with a dilapidated and greasy buffer, snatched the garment fro

he could be heard in the entrance th

thought. "I can't!" Her eyes darted to and fro like a hunted thing see

ck in a thick mu

ngs. "Rose!" hissed Floss, her tone venomous. "I can't g

went she passed one futile, work-worn hand over her hair, plucked off her

n of forty should. Rose stood at the door and waited f

do, H

! Didn't know you-for a minute. Well, well! It's been a long

atically. He was as sentimental in his reminiscence as if he had been ca

May. Won't you come in? Fl

eated Rose so ruthlessly. He had the look of an outdoor man; a man who has met prosperity and walked with her, and followed her pleasant ways; a ma

en? Did little sister tell you how flabbergasted I was when I saw her this morning? I'm darned if it didn't take fif

told me,"

. That certainly is tough. A

rried," e

appeared in the door, a radiant, glowing, girlish vision. Youth was in her eyes, her cheeks, on her lips. She radiated it.

little girl to-nigh

ed, swayed. "Did I keep you

A kindly, clumsy thought struck him. "Say, look here, Rose. We're going to

o, thanks, Henry. Not to-night. You and Floss run along. Yes, I'll remember

e angle of the pert new hat. She stood a moment, uncertainly, after they had left. On her face was the queerest look, as of one thinking, re-adjusting, struggling to

e sick woman, in her gho

enry Selz,"

with memory. "Henry Selz! Henry-o

" sai

here," whined

chen. At that Al emerged from his bedroom, shrugging himself into his coat. He followed

ose had slumped into a chair at the dining-room table, and was pouring herself a cup

le of dollars till

uld sa

bent down and laid his powdered and pale cheek against Rose's sa

d dance, and I couldn't get out of it. I tried." He kissed her, and his lips were moist, and he reeked of tobacco, and though Rose shrugged impatiently away from him

bitterness and the thanklessness of motherhood, with none of its joys! Give me back my

en able to diagnose it. So what she said was, "Don't you think I ever get sick and tired of slaving for a thankless bunch li

earily, "There's a dollar bill and some small change

of metal against metal. He was up the hall in a flash, w

sobs that would not be stilled, though she tried to stifle them as does one who lives in a paper-thin Chicago flat. She was not weeping for the Henry Selz whom she had just seen. She was not weeping for envy of her selfish little sister, or for loneliness, or weariness. She was weeping at the loss of a ghost who had become her familiar. She was weeping because a packet of

the dishes and even glanced at the crumpled sheets of the morning paper that she nev