The Rosie World. Fillmore Parker

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Rosie answered quickly, almost too quickly: "Oh, no, no! I was just a-talkin' to Jarge – "

      "Well, just stop yir talkin' and be off wid yez to school! Do ye hear me now, all o' yez!" Mrs. O'Brien opened the kitchen door and, raising her apron aloft, drove them out with a "Shoo!" as though they were so many chickens.

      CHAPTER II

      THE SCHNITZER

      "Tell me now, Rosie, are you having any trouble with your papers?" Terence asked this as he and Rosie and little Jack started off for school.

      Terence had a regular newspaper business which kept him busy every day from the close of school until dark. His route had grown so large that recently he had been forced to engage the services of one or two subordinates. Rosie had begged to be given a job as paper-carrier, to deliver the papers in their own immediate neighbourhood, and Terence was at last allowing her a week's trial. If she could be a newsgirl without attracting undue attention, he would be as willing to pay her twenty cents a week as to pay any ordinary small boy a quarter.

      Twenty cents seemed a princely wage to one handicapped by the limitation of sex, and Rosie was determined to make good. So, when Terence inquired whether she were having any trouble, she declared at once:

      "No, Terry, honest I'm not. Every one's just as nice and kind to me as they can be. Those two nice Miss Grey ladies always give me a cookie, and nice old Danny Agin nearly always has an apple for me."

      "Well," said Terence, severely – besides being Rosie's brother, fourteen years old and nearly two years her senior, he was her employer and so simply had to be severe – "Well, just see that you don't eat too many apples!"

      Terence and Jack turned into the boys' school-yard and Rosie pursued her way down to the girls' gate. Just before she reached it, a boy, biggish and overgrown, with a large flat face and loosely hung joints, ran up behind her and shouted:

      "Oh, look at the paper-girl, paper-girl, paper-girl! Rosie O'Brien, O'Brien, O'Brien!"

      He seemed to think there was something funny in the name O'Brien, and his own name, mind you, was Schnitzer!

      Rosie marched on with unhearing ears, unseeing eyes. Other people, however, heard, for in a moment, one of the little girls clustered about the school-yard gate rushed over to her, jerking her head about like an indignant little hen.

      "Don't you care what that old Schnitzer says, Rosie! Just treat him like he's beneath your contemp'!"

      Whereupon she herself turned upon the Schnitzer and, with most withering sarcasm, called out: "Dutch!"

      Rosie's friend's name was McFadden, Janet McFadden.

      Why don't you just tell Terry on him?" Janet said, when they were safe within the crowded school-yard and able to discuss at length the cowardice of the attack. "It wouldn't take Terry two minutes to punch his face into pie-crust!"

      "I know, Janet, but don't you see if I was to tell Terry, then he'd think I was getting bothered on my paper route and take it away from me. He's not quite sure, anyhow, whether girls ought to carry papers."

      Janet clucked her tongue in sympathy and understanding. "Does that Schnitzer bother you every afternoon, Rosie?"

      "Yes, and he's getting worse. Yesterday he tried to grab my papers and he tore one of them. I'm just scared to death when I get near his house, honest, I am."

      Janet clenched her hands and drew a long shivering breath. "Do you know, Rosie, boys like him – they just make me so mad that I almost – I almost bust!"

      Black care sat behind Rosie O'Brien's desk that afternoon. It was her fifth day as paper-carrier and, but for Otto Schnitzer, she knew that she would be able to complete satisfactorily her week of probation. Was he to cause her failure? Her heart was heavy with fear but, after school, when she met Terry, she smiled as she took her papers and marched off with so brave a show of confidence that Terry, she felt sure, suspected nothing.

      As usual, she had no trouble whatever on the first part of her route. At sight of her papers a few people smiled but they all greeted her pleasantly enough, so that was all right. One boy called out, "How's business, old gal?" but his tone was so jolly that Rosie was able to sing back, "Fine and dandy, old hoss!" So that was all right, too.

      The Schnitzer place was toward the end of her route, a few doors before she reached Danny Agin's cottage. As she passed it, no Otto was in sight, and she wondered if for once she was to be allowed to go her way unmolested. A sudden yell from the Schnitzers' garden disclosed Otto's whereabouts and also his disappointment not to be on the sidewalk to meet her. He came pounding out in all haste but she was able to make Danny Agin's gate in safety.

      Rosie always delivered Danny's paper in the kitchen.

      "Come in!" said Danny's voice in answer to her knock.

      Rosie opened the door and Danny received her with a friendly, "Ah now, and is it yourself, Rosie? I've been waiting for you this half-hour."

      He was a little apple-cheeked old man who wheezed with asthma and was half-crippled with rheumatism. "Mary!" he called to some one in another room. "It's Rosie O'Brien. Have you something for Rosie?"

      A voice, as serious in tone as Danny's was gay, came back in answer: "Tell Rosie to look on the second shelf of the panthry."

      Rosie went to the pantry – it was a little game they had been playing every afternoon – and on the second shelf found a shiny red apple.

      "Thanks, Danny. I do love apples."

      Danny shook his head lugubriously. "I'm afeared there won't be many more, Rosie. We're gettin' to the bottom of the barrel and summer's comin'. But can't you sit down for a minute and talk to a body?"

      Rosie sat down. As she had only two more papers to deliver, she had plenty of time. But she had nothing to say.

      Danny, watching her, drew a long face. "What's the matter, Rosie dear? Somebody dead?"

      Rosie shook her head and sighed. "That old Otto Schnitzer's waiting for me outside."

      Danny exploded angrily. "The Schnitzer, indeed! I'd like to give that lad a crack wid me stick!"

      "Danny," Rosie said solemnly, "do you know what I'd do if I was a boy?"

      "What?"

      "I'd try a chin-chopper on Otto Schnitzer. That'd fix him!"

      "It would that!" said Danny, heartily. He paused and meditated. "But what's a chin-chopper, darlint?"

      Rosie explained. "And Jarge says," she concluded, "they tumble right over like ninepins."

      "Who's Jarge?"

      "Jarge Riley, our boarder. He's little but he's a dandy scrapper. Terry says so, too."

      Danny wagged his head. "Jarge is right. I've turned the same thrick meself in me younger days, many's the time."

      "It would just serve that Otto Schnitzer right, don't you think so, Danny?"

      "I do!" Danny declared. He looked at Rosie with a sudden light in his little blue eyes. "Say, Rosie, why don't you try it on him? He's nuthin' but a bag o' wind anyhow. One good blow and he'll bust."

      Rosie СКАЧАТЬ