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I got to play square to him." "So it's orders or me, eh?" "Yes, Red, and I want to use you right, and be square, too." Overland Red's beard hid the quiver of his lips as he asked huskily: "And you would be comin' back on the road with your ole pal again? You would give up the job and the chance of a smile from that little Rose-Lady Girl and flew the coop with me again if I said the word?"
She was followed by a tall footman, who quietly deposited upon the table a generous basket of the season's delicacies. "The Rose-lady, mother!" cried Katy, pinching her own arm to see if she could possibly be awake. It was all true, however; and that day the Connors family found a devoted friend. Henceforth the Rose-lady took a special interest in Ellie.
"It's my Rose-lady, as I call her, don't you remember the one who gave me the pretty flower?" cried the child. "Why, so it is!" rejoined Julia. "Well, she's a lovely lady certainly. She happened to ask what the trouble was about the doll; and was so interested I couldn't help telling how you had saved and planned to get it for Ellie, and all about it."
I leaned back idly in chair No. 7, and looked with the tepidest curiosity at the small, black, bald-spotted head just visible above the back of No. 9. Suddenly No. 9 hurled a book to the floor between his chair and the window, and, looking, I saw that it was "The Rose-Lady and Trevelyan," one of the best-selling novels of the present day.
"When I leave here, I'll ride. Sabe?" And Overland stepped briskly to the trail, turning his back squarely on the alert and puzzled sheriff. "He's been raised in these hills," muttered the tramp. "He knows the trails. I don't. But I'd like to show that little Rose-Lady Girl some real ridin' once. She's a sport.
"Then the Rose-lady must have sent it," declared Katy, feeling as if she were in a dream. That her conjecture was correct was evident the next day; for about noon a carriage stopped at the door of the dilapidated house in street; and a visitor, who seemed to bring with her an additional share of Christmas sunshine, was shown up to the Connors' tenement.
"Yes, it's her," muttered Overland, nodding to himself. "And you chucked a rose out of the window to us?" said the boy. "Overland said she did." "Yes. It's her, the Rose-Lady Girl," said Overland. "Some of the folks in the train laughed when I picked up the rose. I remember. Some one else says, 'They're only tramps. I recollect that, too."
Pardon that; and pardon, too, the self-consciousness that makes me beg not to be remembered as I seem to myself in the tale a tiptoeing, peeping figure prowling by night after undue revelations, and using them to the humiliation of souls cleaner than mine could ever pretend to be. Next day, by stealth again, we buried the little rose-lady, unknown to her husband.
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