was
lacking in many of the taller apartment houses whose shoulders it could
not begin to touch. Under the low roof were some twenty apartments of
different sizes and the occupant of each was bound by lease not to
introduce a child nor a cat nor a dog. No one showed the least desire
to introduce any one of the three but each went his way and insisted on
his full rights with a selfish disregard of the rights and conveniences
of others in a way that at first had made Larry Donovan's mouth pop
wide open in amazement. Even now that he was used to it he was often
surprised.

And to the Washington with its lease forbidding children and pets had
come a letter from Mifflin telling of the sudden death of Mrs.
Donovan's brother-in-law. Samuel Crocker had been an unsuccessful man,
as the world counts success, and had left nothing behind him but his
little daughter, Mary Rose.

"It's her age that's again' her," thought Mrs. Donovan, when she was
alone. "If she were a couple of years older there couldn't be any
objection. Well, for the lan's sakes!" Her face broke into a broad
grin. "There isn't any reason why we should--nobody need ever know,"
she murmured cryptically.

Ten minutes later she was busy in the little room at the end of the
hall. When Larry came back he stumbled over the machine she had pushed
out of her way.

"Hullo," he said. "What's up?"

Mrs. Donovan lifted a smiling face. "I'm gettin' ready."

"For what?" he asked stupidly.

"For my niece, Mary Rose Crocker." She turned around and stood before
him, a scrub-cloth in her hand.

Larry frowned. "I thought we'd finished with that, Kate. I told you
about the leases. You'll have to board Mary Rose in Mifflin or send
her to a convent."

"Board!" The scrub-doth, a very banner of defiance, was waved an inch
in front of his nose. "Board out my own niece, a kid of eleven? I
think I see myself, Larry Donovan. An' aren't you ashamed to have such
thoughts, you, a decent man? A little thing that needs a mother's
care. An' who should give it to her but me, her own aunt? The Lord
had his plans when he took away all her other relations an' I ain't one
to interfere."

"It means the loss of my job," objected Larry sullenly.

"It does not." There was another flourish of the scrub-cloth. "Listen
to me, Larry Donovan. Is there anyone in this house 't knows how old
Mary Rose is? Does Mrs. Bracken or that crosspatch Miss Adams or the
weepin' willow,