The only thing to do, Rosanna decided, was to talk to her grandmother after luncheon when they usually sat in the rose arbor. Rosanna, playing scales, felt quite brave. She would explain everything: how Helen Culver used the best of grammar, and no slang, and climbed trees in rompers and did not scream. Then when she had assured her grandmother of all this, she would tell her quite firmly that she, Rosanna, needed a friend.

It seemed simple and easy, but when luncheon was announced, she decided not to speak until later and when finally they went out to the rose arbor, Rosanna commenced to feel quite shaky and instead of talking she fell into a deep silence.

And then, that minute, that very identical second, something happened that changed everything. A messenger boy came with a telegram. And if it hadn’t been for that messenger boy this story would never have happened. If he had been a slow messenger boy, half an hour late...but he just hurried along on his bicycle and arrived that second. Oh, a dozen things might have happened to delay the boy, but there he was just as Rosanna said, “Grandmother!” in a small but firm voice.

Rosanna said nothing more because her grandmother opened the telegram with fingers that shook a little in spite of her iron will. But as she read it a look of relief and joy lighted her proud face.

“Good news, Rosanna,” she said. “The best of news! Your Uncle Robert has reached America!”

“Won’t he have to fight any more, grandmother?”

“No; he will come home and be with us. But as I have told you, dear, he was slightly wounded over there in Germany, and I think if I can arrange everything for your comfort, I will go and meet him. He is in New York, and I shall see for myself if he needs any doctoring or care that he could not get here. Then perhaps we will stay at the seaside or in the mountains for a week or so. Would you mind being left with the maids for that long? Perhaps one of your little acquaintances would like to come and play with you once or twice a week.”

This was a great privilege in her grandmother’s eyes, as Rosanna knew, and she said, “Thank you, grandmother,” and started to tell her then and there about Helen. But Mrs. Horton went right on talking.

“Come to my room with me while I pack,” she said, rising.

Rosanna did not get a chance to say one word to her. She listened while her grandmother called up an intimate friend who lived near by and arranged for her to come in every day to see how Rosanna was getting on. She called John in and told him just where he could drive the car when Miss Rosanna took her daily ride. “If she wants to take a little girl friend with her, she is to do so, as I want her to have a good time,” Mrs. Horton told him.

When she woke the next morning, Rosanna lay for a long while thinking.

So Uncle Robert had actually come home! And grandmother had gone to meet him! She might be away a week or more. Then her thoughts flew to Helen. Wasn’t it too, too wonderful? Her grandmother had said quite clearly that one of her little acquaintances might come and play with her.

Usually Rosanna took forever to dress. She was really not at all nice about it. Big girl as she was, Minnie always dressed her, and she would scriggle her toes so her stockings wouldn’t go on, and would hop up and down so the buttons wouldn’t button. It was very exasperating and she should have been soundly spanked for it: but of course Minnie, who was paid generous wages, only said, “Now, Miss Rosanna, don’t you bother poor Minnie that-a way!”

This morning, however, she was out of bed and into the cold plunge without being pushed and she actually helped with her stockings. She was ready for breakfast so soon that Minnie said, “Well, well, Miss Rosanna, looks like it does you good to have your grandmother go ’way!”

With one thing and another, she did not get a chance to go down to the overhanging tree until after luncheon.

She peered eagerly up.

Helen was there, curled up on a big bough, a book in her lap and a gray kitten playing around her.

“Here I am!” said Rosanna, smiling.

“And here am I,” answered Helen, smiling back.

“Did you expect me sooner?” asked Rosanna.

“No; I was hoping you wouldn’t come. I suppose you never have things to do, but I am a very busy little girl. I help mother, and practice my music, and she is teaching me to sew and cook. Of course we have cooking at school but no one can cook like mother, and I want to be just like her. I told her about you last night, and she said you could borrow her whenever you wanted to.”

“I too have things to do,” said Rosanna, who felt as though she ought to be of some use since Helen was so industrious. “When I get through with my bath mornings Minnie dresses me ”

“Dresses you?” exclaimed Helen in astonishment. “Why, Rosanna, can’t you dress yourself?”

Rosanna felt a queer sort of shame. “I never tried,” she confessed, “but I am sure I could.”

“Of course you could,” said Helen briskly. “The buttons and things in the back are hard, but my mother makes most of my things slip-on so I can manage everything. Why don’t you try to dress yourself, Rosanna? You wouldn’t want folks to know that you couldn’t, would you? Of course you don’t mind my knowing, because I am your friend and I will never tell; but you wouldn’t want most people to know?”

Rosanna had never thought about it at all, but now it seemed a very babyish and helpless thing. She determined to dress herself in future. To change the subject she said, “Why don’t you come down into the garden? I want to show you my playhouse and the pony.”

“I’d love to,” said Helen, and slid rapidly down the tree and out of sight behind the brick wall.

Rosanna heard her light footsteps running up the stairs leading to the apartment over the garage. She sat down on the rustic seat and waited as patiently as she could. It seemed a long time before Helen appeared at the little gate in the wall.

“Mother thinks that you ought to ask your grandmother if she would like to have me come and see you,” she said, looking very grave.

“Oh, that’s all right!” said Rosanna. “Grandmother has gone away, and she said the very last thing that I could have somebody come and see me whenever I wanted.”

“But did she say me?” Helen persisted. “My father drives for your grandmother and perhaps she may think we are not rich and grand enough for you.”

“Why, no, she didn’t say you. She didn’t say anybody. She said I might have anyone I like, and I like you. It is all right. You can ask Minnie; she heard her say I could have company. She doesn’t know you, you see, so she couldn’t say that you were the one to come. She told me ‘some little girl.’”

“That sounds all right,” said Helen. “I will go tell mother. She was not sure I ought to come.” She disappeared once more through the little gate, and Rosanna waited. She was not happy. Her grandmother had certainly not named any little girl, but Rosanna knew that she did not mean or intend that Rosanna should entertain the little girl who lived over the garage. Her grandmother thought every one was all right if they belonged to an old family. The first thing she ever asked Rosanna about any little girl was “What is her family?” or “Who are her people?”

Rosanna, whose conscience was troubling her in a queer way, determined to ask Helen about her family, although it seemed that was one of the things that were not very nice to do. But perhaps Helen had a family. In that case she could settle everything happily.

The children joined hands and went skipping along the path toward the playhouse, Helen’s bobbed yellow locks shining in the sun and Rosanna’s long, heavy, dark hair swinging from side to side as she danced along.

She led the way through the little door into the little living-room of the playhouse and stood aside as Helen cried out with wonder and pleasure.

“Oh, oh, oh, Rosanna!” the little girl exclaimed. “Oh, it is too dear! May I please look at everything, just as though it was in a picture book?”

Helen moved from one place to another in a sort of daze. She tried the little wicker chairs one after another. She sat at the tiny desk and touched the pearl penholders and the pencils with Rosanna’s name printed on them in gold letters. All the letter paper said Rosanna in gold letters at the top too; it was beautiful.

The little piano was real. It played delightfully little tinkly notes almost like hitting the rim of a glass with a lead pencil. Helen was charmed. She could scarcely drag herself away to see the other wonders of the playhouse. The little dining-room was built with a bay window, which had a window seat, and a hanging basket of ferns. The little round table, the sideboard and the chairs were all painted a soft cream color, and on each chair back, and the sideboard drawers and doors sprays of tinty, tiny flowers were painted.

Helen hurried from these splendors to the kitchen. And it was a real kitchen!

“If our domestic science teacher could only see this!” groaned Helen.

The room was larger than either of the others, and there was plenty of room for two or three persons, at least for a couple of children and one grown person if she was not so very large. There was a little gas stove complete in every way, a cabinet, and a porcelain top table, as well as a white sink and draining board. The floor was covered with blue and white linoleum, and the walls were papered with blue and white tiled paper with a border of fat little Dutch ships around the top. Little white Dutch curtains hung at the windows.

“Oh my! Oh my!” sighed Helen. “This is the best of all! The other rooms you can only sit in and enjoy, but here you can really do things and learn to be useful.”

She opened a little cupboard door and discovered all sorts of pans and kettles made of white enamel with blue edges.

“I never come out here at all,” said Rosanna.

“Perhaps they are afraid you will burn yourself,” suggested Helen.

“No, the stove is a safe kind, made specially for children’s playhouses, but I don’t know how to cook, so I don’t play in the kitchen at all. Make-believe dinners are no fun.”

Helen gave a happy sigh.

“Well, I can cook,” she said, “and I will teach you how.”

“Won’t that be fun!” said Rosanna. She suddenly threw her arms around Helen’s neck and kissed her. “Oh, Helen, I am so happy,” she said.