cross old bachelor."

"But I'm a child," wailed Mary Rose suddenly. "Wha-what are you going
to do with me?" Her face whitened.

Her aunt put her hand under the little chin and turned Mary Rose's
startled face up so that the two pairs of eyes looked directly into
each other. "You're not a child, Mary Rose. You're a great big girl
goin' on fourteen. Don't ever forget that. If anyone asks you how old
you are you just tell 'em you're goin' on fourteen. That's what you
are, you know."

"Yes," doubtfully. "But I have to go to eleven first and then to
twelve and thirteen----"

"Waloo folks don't care about that," her aunt interrupted quickly.
"They don't care to hear about any but the fourteen. Don't you ever
forget."

"I won't," promised Mary Rose solemnly, too puzzled just then to think
it out. "But what about George Washington? He's just a cat." She
looked dubiously at George Washington and shook her head. Nothing
could be made of him but a cat. "An orphan cat!" she added firmly.

"I know, dearie." Aunt Kate's arms tightened around her. "An' I hate
to ask you to give him up. I know you love him but if you keep him
here it may mean that your uncle will lose his job an' if he did that
there wouldn't be any roof over our heads nor bread for our stomachs."

"Oh!" Mary Rose stared at her. "Would that cross old bachelor owner
make him not be janitor?"

Her aunt nodded. "We'll have to find someone to take care of him--just
for a while," she added quickly as she saw two big tears in Mary Rose's
blue eyes. "Some day, please God, we'll have a home where we can have
him with us."

Mary Rose stood very still, trying in vain to understand this strange
world to which she had come, a world where children and cats and dogs
were not considered precious and desirable. Suddenly a bell rang.

"That's Mrs. Rawson," murmured Aunt Kate. "I'll bet she wants me to
run up an' look at her windows again. I'll be right back, Mary Rose,"
she promised as she hurried away to answer the insistent jangle of Mrs.
Rawson's bell.

CHAPTER III

Left alone, Mary Rose caught George Washington to her heart and stood
staring about the room. She shook her head. This might be a beautiful
palace but she was very much afraid that she was not going to like it.
She walked slowly into the next room and then to the kitchen, whose
windows faced the alley.

Across the driveway she could see a broad open space, the yard of a
r