Ethel Morton at Rose House by Mabell S. C. Smith

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Among them they succeeded in getting her into the house and into a cool
room, where she lay exhausted on the bed, her hand holding tight to the
little hand of her baby, lying wearily beside her.

"Sunstroke?" asked Grandmother.

"Hunger," replied Mr. Emerson, and he and Ethel Brown went down stairs
at once in search of food, while Mrs. Emerson and Ethel Blue managed to
undress their patient and put her into a fresh nightdress and bathe her
face and hands. By the time they had done this and were undressing the
baby, Ethel Brown and Mrs. Emerson's cook were at the door with jellied
broth, milk, gruel and a cooling drink.

Ethel Blue fed the woman, spoonful by spoonful, and Ethel Brown gave
the baby alternate spoonfuls of gruel and milk.

"Sleepy now?" asked Mrs. Emerson when the dark head sank back on the
pillow. "Take a nap, then. See, the baby is right here where you can
lay your hand on her. We'll look in now and then and just as soon as
you wake up you must take some more food."

"Must!" repeated the girl, for she was hardly older than Miss Merriam
they saw when her hair was pushed back from her face. "Must! 'Tis
_glad_ I'll be to be doing it!" and a ghost of a smile fluttered her
lips.

Outside of the bedroom door Mrs. Emerson asked for an explanation and
the others for her advice.

"I don't see how we can tell what we can do until we pull her through
this trouble and find out what the poor soul wants to do herself."

"She said she came out from New York to look for work in the country."

"Then we must find her work in the country. But the first thing for us
to attend to is to get her poor body into such a condition that she can
work. She's a sweet looking young woman. I'm glad you brought her
home, Father," and between Mr. and Mrs. Emerson there passed a smile of
such understanding as makes beautiful the lives of people long and
happily married.

CHAPTER III

THE FARMHOUSE

It took a long time to bring Moya Murphy and little Sheila back to
health and strength, but it was only a day or two before Moya was able
to tell her story to Mrs. Emerson.

She was twenty-five, she said, and she had come to America with her
father and mother five years before. The New World had not given a
warm welcome to the new arrivals, for both of the parents had fallen
ill with pneumonia only a few weeks after they landed, and both died
within a few days of each other.

Moya, left alone and grieving, had soon after married Patrick Murphy, a
lad she had known in the old country. A happy life they led,
especially after little Sheila came to bless them.

When the declaration of war in Europe upset business conditions in
America, Patrick lost his "job" and all summer long he walked the
streets, working for a day now and then, but never securing a permanent
position, and always growing weaker and less able to work because he
was underfed. The little three-room flat that had been such a joy to
them, had long been given up and they lived and ate and slept in one
room, and thanked their stars that they had a landlord who did not
insist on being paid regularly, as did some they knew about who put
their tenants out on the street if the rent was not forthcoming
promptly.

"Somehow it's the sudden things that happens to me," said Moya to Mrs.
Emerson. She was sitting on the latticed back porch of the Emersons'
house, her fingers busy shelling peas for Kate, the old cook who had
lived with Mrs. Emerson ever since she was married. "Patrick was
crossing the street--'tis only six weeks ago, but it seems years! An
automobile with one of the shrieking horns screamed at him. 'Twas the
policeman on the crossing told me. Patrick was light on his feet
always, but that was when he had enough to eat ivery day. He thried to
jump back and his foot slipped and he fell under the car and it killed
him."

She sobbed and Mrs. Emerson and Kate wiped their eyes.

"Two days it was before I knew it; there was nothing on his clothes to
tell who he was, and I only found out when he didn't come home and I
went to the police and they took me to the Morgue and there he lay.
They gave me twenty dollars--the policemen did. They collected it
among themselves."

"Didn't they arrest the driver of the car?"

"'Twas a light car and it sped away before any one saw the number."

Kate Flanigan gave a grunt of disgust at the brutality of the driver.

"I gave the landlord half the money the policemen gave me. I owed it
for the rint. Then I set out to hunt work. Ivery day I walked and
walked and ivery day I carried the baby, for where could I leave her?
Nobody wanted a girl who wasn't trained to do anything, and even if I
had been able to do something well they wanted no baby. There's no
room for babies when you have to work," she said bitterly.

"I want you to feel that you are safe here, you and Sheila," said Mrs.
Emerson gently. "Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Smith and I have been talking it
over with Kate, and this is what we've planned, provided you agree."

Moya gathered up her baby jealously in her lap.

"It will keep you and Sheila together," said Mrs. Emerson quickly,
noticing her gesture, and smiling approvingly as Moya at once let the
child slide off her lap on to the floor where she sat contentedly
playing with some of the pods of the peas that had fallen from the pan.

"Perhaps Kate has told you that we are planning to have some women and
children who need country air come out from New York this summer and
live in a farmhouse that we have on the place here."

Moya nodded. "She did."

"We need a cook. We are going to give them simple food, but nourishing
and well cooked."

"If it's me you're thinking of for the cooking, ma'am, I'm a poor cook
beyond potaties and stew."

"You never were taught to cook?"

"Taught? No, ma'am. I picked up what little I know from me mother.
'Tis simple enough, but too simple for what you need."

"If you'll try to learn, here's what we've planned. Kate needs a
helper. Not because she isn't strong and hearty, but because Mr.
Emerson and I want her to have a little more time for pleasure than she
has had for a good many years. She won't take a real vacation, so we
are going to give her a partial vacation."

"Me being the helper?" inquired Moya, her thin face lighting.

"More than the helper. Kate has agreed to teach you how to cook all
the dishes that it will be necessary to cook for the women and children
this summer. You couldn't have a better teacher."

"I'm sure of it," answered the young woman, turning gratefully to Kate.
"I'll do my very best."

"You shall have a room for yourself and the baby, and wages," and she
named a sum that made Moya's eyes burn.

"I'm not worth that yet," she cried, "but I know you'll need me to
dress respectable, so I'll not refuse it and I'll get some decent
things for the baby and mesilf!"

"If Kate finds that you take hold well she'll teach you more elaborate
cooking. There's always a place waiting somewhere for a good cook, and
here's your chance to learn to be a really excellent cook."

So the problem of obtaining a cook was settled without trouble, and as
Ethel Brown found Mrs. Schuler not only ready but eager to act as
Matron, two of the possible difficulties seemed to have proved
themselves no difficulties at all.

CHAPTER IV

PLANS

The work of the carpenters filled in very acceptably the time when the
members of the Club were toiling at school.

A visit of inspection toward the end of June gave the onlookers the
greatest satisfaction.

"Everything is as fine as a fiddle!" exclaimed Roger as they all
stopped in one of the upstairs rooms. "Now it's up to us to do the
papering and painting and to concoct some furniture."

So it was decided that all the bedrooms should have white paint and
walls of delicate hues and that Mrs. Schuler's office should be pink
with white paint and white curtains at the windows.

"We can get very pretty papers for ten cents a roll," said Margaret.
"I saw some beauties when I went to the paperers to get some flowery
papers for James to cut out when he was pasting decorations on to our
Christmas Ship boxes."

"Are you going to use wall paper?" asked Miss Merriam quickly.

"Aren't we?" inquired Margaret. "It didn't occur to me that there was
anything else. There is paper on the walls now."

"It's a lot more sanitary to have the walls kalsomined, I know that,"
said James in a superior tone. "Haven't you heard Father say so a
dozen times?"

"I suppose I have, now I think about it," replied Margaret. "It stands
to reason that there would be less chance for germs to hide."

"Do you suppose these old walls are in good enough condition to go
uncovered?" asked Roger, passing his hand over a suspicious bulge that
forced the paper out, and casting his eye at the ceiling which was
veined with hair cracks.

"Probably the walls will not be in the pink Of condition," returned
Mrs. Morton; "but, even so, color-washing will be better than papering."

"We can go over them and fill up the cracks," suggested Tom, "and we
can whitewash the ceilings."

"That's what I should advise," said Miss Merriam. "Put the walls and
ceilings in as good condition as you can, and then put on your wash.
Kalsomining is rather expensive, but there are plenty of color washes
now that any one can put on who can wield a whitewash brush."

"Me for the whitewash brush at an early date," Roger sang gayly. "What
do you suggest for these upstairs floors, Miss Merriam? Grandfather
thought they weren't bad enough to have new ones laid, but they do look
rather rocky, don't they?"

He cast a disparaging glance at the boards under his feet, and waited
for help.

"Were you planning to paint them?"

"Yes," Roger nodded.

"Then you ought to putty up the cracks first. That will make them
smooth enough. They're not really rough, you see. It's the spaces
between the planks that make them seem so."

"That's easily done. We thought we'd paint these old floors and stain
the new ones down stairs."

"I'd do that. Paint these floors tan or gray, if you want them to
confess frankly that they're painted floors, or the shade of some wood
if you want to pretend that they're hard wood floors."

James moved uneasily. Roger guessed the reason.

"What's the matter, old man? Treasury low?"

"It always is," answered James uncomfortably. "How are we going to
fill it?"

"That's what I've been thinking," Ethel Brown said meditatively. "It's
time we did something to earn something."

"Everybody I've sold cookies to all winter seems to have stopped eating
them," complained Ethel Brown. "I'm thinking of getting up a cooky
sale to relieve my financial distress."

"There's an idea," cried Tom. "Why can't we have a cooky sale--with a
few other things thrown in--and use the proceeds for the decoration and
furnishing of Rose House?"

"We've had so many entertainments; can we do anything different enough
for the Rosemonters to be willing to come?"

"And spend?"

"I think the Rosemonters have great confidence in our getting up
something new and interesting; ditto the Glen Pointers," insisted
Margaret who lived at Glen Point and knew the opinions of her neighbors.

"Where could we have it--_it_ meaning our sale or whatever we decide to
have?"

"Why not have it here? Let's wait until the boys have the house all
painted and whitewashed and colorwashed so it looks as fresh as
possible, and then tell the town what it is we are trying to do this
summer, and ask them over here to see what it looks like."

"Good enough. When they see that it's good as far as it goes, but that
our Fresh Air people will be mighty uncomfortable if they don't have
some beds to sleep in and a few other trifles of every day use, they'll
buy whatever we have to sell. That's the way it seems to me," and
Roger threw himself down on the grass before the front door with an air
of having said the final word.

"Let's ask the people of _Rose_mont to come to _Rose_ House to a _Rose_
Fete," cried Ethel Blue, while every one of her hearers waved his
handkerchief at the suggestion.

"I'll draw a poster with the announcement on it," she went on, "and we
can have it printed on pink paper and the boys can go round on their
bicycles and distribute them at every house."

"We must have everything pink, of course. Pink ice cream and cakes
with pink icing--"

"And pink strawberries--"

"Not green ones! No, sir!"

"And watermelons if we can get some that won't make too much trouble
for Dr. Hancock."

"How are we going to serve them? We can't bring china way out
here--and we won't have any for Rose House until after we give this
party to earn it!"

"They have paper plates with pretty patterns on them now. And if they
cost too much we might get the plain ones and lay a d'oyley of pink
paper on each one," suggested Margaret.

"Probably that will be the cheapest and the effect will be just as
good, but I'll find out the prices in town," promised Delia.

"I have a scheme for a table of fancy things," offered Dorothy. "Let's
have it under that tree over there and over it let's hang a huge rose.
I think I know how to make it--two hoops, the kind Dicky rolls, one
above the other, the smaller one on top, and both suspended from the
tree. Cover them inside and out with big pink paper petals."

"How are you going to make it look like a rose and not a pink bell?"
inquired Delia.

"Put a green calyx on the top and some yellow stamens inside and then
make a stem that will look like the real thing, only gigantic."

"How will you manage that?"

"Do you remember those wild grape vines that Helen and Ethel Brown
found in the West Woods and used for Hallowe'en decorations? If we
could get a thick one and wind it with green paper and let it curve
from the rose toward the ground it ought to look like a real stem."

"We could hang the rose with dark string that wouldn't show, and fasten
the stem to the branch of the tree with a pink bow. It would look as
if some giant had tied it there for his ladylove."

"I have an old pink sash I'll contribute to the good cause," laughed
Helen. "I've been wondering what to do with it for some time."

"Everything on the table must be pink and shaped like a rose or
decorated with roses--cushions, pen-wipers, baskets, stencilled bureau
sets--there are a thousand things to be made."

"Boxes covered with rose paper," suggested James solemnly.

Everybody shouted, for James's imagination always seemed to be
stimulated whenever he saw a chance to make something with paste-pot
and brush.

"How about music?"

This question brought silence, for it was not easy to arrange for music
in the open.

"I wish Edward and his violin were here," said Delia, referring to her
brother, Dr. Watkins, who had recently gone to Oklahoma to assist an
older physician in a flourishing town there. He had been very
attentive to Miss Merriam and she was annoyed to find herself blushing
at the mention of his name. Ethel Blue, who had been in his
confidence, was the only one of the young people who glanced at her,
however, so her annoyance passed unnoticed.

"He isn't, and a piano is out of the question. I wonder, if Greg
Patton would bring his fiddle?"

"Why didn't we think of him before! He and some of the other high
school boys have been getting up a little orchestra; I shouldn't wonder
a bit if they'd be glad to help--glad of the experience of playing in
public."

"We haven't got to make oceans of paper roses, this time," remarked
Ethel Brown gratefully. "Nature is doing the work for us."

She waved her hand at the clump of bushes which was to conceal
Dorothy's fortune telling operations, and which was pink with blossoms.

"Our bushes at home are loaded down with them, too," said Margaret.
"Everybody's are, so I don't suppose it would be worth while to have a
flower table."

"There's no harm in trying. We could say on the poster that
exceptionally choice roses will be on exhibition and sale and--and why
couldn't we take orders for the bushes? Use the beauties for samples
and if people like them, get roots from the bushes they came from and
supply them the next day!"

Ethel Blue was quite breathless with the force of this suggestion and
the others applauded it.

"Just as I think of Ethel Blue as all imagination and dreams she comes
out with something practical like that and I have to study her all over
again," said Roger, observing his cousin with his head on one side.
Ethel Blue threw a leaf at him which he dodged with exaggerated fear.

They decided to have the Rose Fete just as soon as the boys put the
house into presentable condition, and then the girls separated, Ethel
Brown and Dorothy to see Mr. Emerson about securing the boxes, Helen
and Margaret to measure the windows for curtains, Delia and Ethel Blue
to work out the design for converting ordinary Chinese lanterns into
roses which they had thought of as lending a charm to the veranda and
the lawn after the sun went down, and the boys to calculate the
quantities of putty and paint and color-wash, based on information
given Roger by the local painter and decorator, who was quite willing
to help with advice when he found that there was no chance of his own
services being called into play.

CHAPTER V

THE ROSE FETE

The United Service Club had made so good a name for itself in Rosemont
during the few months of its existence that when Ethel Blue's posters
brought to their doors the news that the U. S. C. was to give a Rose
Fete at Rose House the townspeople were eager to know what attraction
the members had devised. The schools were still in session so the
Ethels and Dorothy at the graded school and Helen and Roger and the
orchestra boys at the high school made themselves into an advertising
band and told everybody all about the purpose of the festival. The
scholars carried the information home, and there were few houses in
Rosemont where it was not known that Mr. Emerson's old farmhouse was to
be turned into a summer home for weary mothers and ailing babies.

Helen and Margaret, after consulting with their mothers and Mrs. Smith
and Mrs. Emerson, had decided that a cot or single bed and two cribs
ought to go in each bedroom except Moya's, where one crib would be
enough. This meant that five beds and nine cribs must be provided, and
the number made the girls look serious as they calculated the probable
proceeds of the Rose Fete and subtracted from them the amount that they
would have to pay the local furniture dealer, even though he, being a
public spirited and charitable man, offered them a discount. For a day
or two they went about in a state of depression, for they had hoped to
be able to supply the furnishings without making any appeal to the
grownups. Thanks to Dorothy they could discount any expense for
bureaus and desks and tables, but their ambition did not soar to
constructing bedsteads; these had to be bought or given.

It became evident after a number of householders had inquired how they
could help, that there was a chance that the U. S. C. treasury might
not be reduced after all by the purchase of beds. When one lady was
informed by Helen of their schemes for filling the rooms--how the
carpenters had provided them with a table that would do for the
dining-room and how shelves innumerable were to do duty for innumerable
purposes,--and she had added ruefully, "But we can't make very good
beds, and we do want the women to sleep well, poor things. We've got
to buy those--" she had cried, "Why, I have a cot in my attic that I
should be _delighted_ to let you have, and my daughter's little boy has
outgrown his crib and I'm sure she'll contribute that."

A week before the Fete, however, they had been promised all the
bedsteads they needed--though some lacked springs, some mattresses, and
almost all were without pillows--four cribs, half a dozen chairs and
two high chairs, and a collection of odd pieces. Helen refused nothing
but double beds; there was not space enough for those in a bedroom with
three people in it; it would seem to the women too much like the
crowded tenements they came from, she thought. Miss Merriam objected
also, on the ground that it was not well for babies to sleep with grown
people.

"What do you think of this plan?" Ethel Brown asked her mother after
the girls had made a careful list of their gifts. "We did think that
if we didn't have a stick in the house the people would be interested
in helping us because of our poverty. We've found out that they are
awfully interested even without seeing the house. Do you think it
would be a good scheme to put into the rooms the things we have ready
and to fasten on the door a notice saying
'THIS ROOM NEEDS'
and under that a list of what is lacking? Don't you think some of them
would say, 'I've got an extra cushion at home that would do for a
pillow here; I'll send it over'; or 'Don't you remember that three
legged chair that used to be in Joe's room? I believe these children
can mend it and paint it to look well enough for this room'?"

"Ethel Brown, you're running Ethel Blue hard in the line of ideas!"
cried Roger admiringly from a position at the door which he had taken
as he passed through the hall and heard discussion going on.

"It's a capital idea," agreed Mrs. Morton. "You'd better ask
Grandfather again for a wagon and go around and collect the things that
have been promised. You don't want to bother people to send them over
themselves."

Every one worked with vigor during the last few days before the
festival, for the renovating of old furniture takes more time than any
one ever expects it to. The results were so satisfactory, however,
that neither the boys nor the girls gave a thought to their tired hands
and backs when evening brought them release from their labors.

The great day was clear, and, for the last of June, cool. Every plan
worked out well and every helper appeared at the moment he was wanted.
The box seats and tables, superintended by Ethel Brown and served by
half a dozen friends all wearing white dresses and pink aprons, bloomed
rosily on the veranda. Under the large rose Delia and Ethel Blue,
dressed in pink, sold fancy articles. Dorothy, sitting "under the
rose" in the rose jungle, and dressed like a moss rose, with a filmy
green tunic draping her pink frock, described brilliant futures to
laughing inquirers. Margaret, dressed to represent the yellow Scottish
roses, sold flowers from the Ethels' garden and took orders for rose
bushes.

The boys were everywhere, opening ice cream tubs for Moya in the
background, guiding would-be players to the tennis court and the
croquet ground, and directing new arrivals where to tie their horses
and park their motors. Every member of the club was provided with a
small notebook wherein to jot down any bit of advice that was offered
and seemed profitable or to record any offer of fittings that might be
made.

Helen took no regular duty, leaving herself free to go over the house
with any one who wanted to know the Club's plans, and she had more
frequent need than any of the others to use her book. Ethel Brown's
scheme had been followed. On the door of each room was posted a list
of articles needed to complete the furnishing of that room.

"They certainly aren't greedy!" exclaimed one matron after reading the
notice. "This says that this room is complete except for bed clothing."

She waved her hand around with some scorn. Helen dimpled with
amusement.

"We thought we'd make one room as nearly complete as we could," she
explained. "You see this has a bed, two cribs, a looking-glass, and
shelves as substitutes for a washstand and a closet and a table and a
bureau.

"There are no chairs, child!"

"These two boxes are the chairs. We had a few chairs given us but
they'll be needed down stairs. We think they'll have more exercise
than any chairs ever had before. They'll be used in the dining-room
for breakfast, and then they'll be moved to the veranda to spend the
morning, and in they'll come again for dinner and out they'll go for
the afternoon, and in for supper, and after supper they'll be moved
into the hall which is to serve as the sitting room!"

Helen's hearer pressed her hand to her head.

"You make me positively dizzy!" she exclaimed. "At any rate I'd like
to make this room complete according to your notions, so I'll send you
some sheets and pillow cases and blankets and a spread if you'll allow
me."

"We'll be glad to have them," accepted Helen, beaming. "Roger will
call for them if that will be more convenient for you," and she made a
note of the gift and the time when it should be sent after.

Other women remembered as they examined the door lists that they had a
mattress that could be spared, or a pillow or two or a pair of summer
blankets.

"What are you going to do for ornaments," asked another.

Helen laughed.

"James Hancock has an idea for decorating the walls so that they'll
interest the babies, and we're going to have fresh cheese-cloth
curtains at all the windows, but that's the end of our possibilities."

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