CHAPTER VI
The Dark Secret
THE four Cottagers sat in solemn conclave round the dining-room tablenext morning. Rosa Marie, flat on her stomach on the floor, lapped milklike a cat and licked the bowl afterwards; but now no one paid theslightest attention.
"I think," said Jean, removing her elbows from the table, "that we'dbetter tell our mothers and Aunty Jane all about it at once. They'llknow what to do."
"So do I," said Marjory.
"So do I," echoed Bettie.
"_I_ don't," protested Mabel, whose hitherto serene countenance nowshowed signs of great anxiety. "If you ever tell _anybody_, I'll--I'llnever speak to you again. This joke--if it _is_ a joke--is on _me_. Igot into this scrape and it's _my_ scrape."
"But," objected Jean, "we always do tell our mothers everything. That'swhy they trust us to play all by ourselves in Dandelion Cottage."
"Give me just a few days," pleaded Mabel. "Perhaps that woman got keptaway by some accident. I'm sure Rosa Marie's mother has mother feelingsinside of her, _some_ place--I saw 'em in her face when I was leadingRosa Marie away. I _know_ she'll come back. Until she does, I'll takecare of that poor deserted child myself."
"It's a blessing she never cries, anyway," observed Bettie. "If shewere a howling child I don't know _what_ we'd do. As it is, she's not_much_ more trouble than a Teddy bear."
If Mrs. Mapes hadn't had a missionary box in her cellar to pack forReservation Indians of assorted sizes and shapes with the cast-offgarments of all Lakeville; if Mrs. Bennett had not been exceedinglybusy with a seamstress getting ready to go out of town for animportant visit; if Aunty Jane had not been even busier trying to makegreen tomato pickles out of ripe tomatoes; if Mrs. Tucker had not beentoo anxious about the throats of the youngest three Tuckers to giveheed to the doings of the larger members of her family, these four goodwomen would surely have discovered that something unusual was takingplace under the Cottage roof. As it was, not one of the mothers, noteven sharp Aunty Jane, discovered that the Cottagers were borrowing anamazing amount of milk from their respective refrigerators.
The novelty worn off, Rosa Marie became a heavy burden to at leastthree of the Cottagers' tender consciences. Mabel's conscience may havetroubled her, but not enough to be noticed by a pair of moderatelycareless parents. Mabel, however, grew more and more attached to RosaMarie; the others did not. To tell the truth, the borrowed infant wasnot an attractive child. Many small Indians are decidedly pretty, butRosa Marie was not. Her small eyes were too close together, her upperlip was much too long for the rest of her countenance and her largemouth turned sharply down at the corners. But loyal Mabel was blindto these defects. She saw only the babyish roundness of Rosa Marie'sbody, the cunning dimples in her elbows and the affectionate gleam thatsometimes showed in the small black eyes. But then, it was always Mabelwho found beauty in the stray dogs and cats that no one else wouldhave on the premises. During these trying days the Cottagers _almost_quarreled.
"That child is all cheeks," complained Marjory, petulantly. "Theypositively hang down. Do you suppose we're giving her too much milk?She's disgustingly fat, and she hasn't any figure."
"She has altogether too much figure," declared Jean, almost crossly. "Ifastened this little petticoat around what I _thought_ was her waistand it slid right off. So now I've got to make buttonholes. Such anuisance!"
"Pity you can't use tacks and a hammer," giggled Marjory.
The clothing of Rosa Marie had presented another distressing problem.She owned absolutely nothing in the way of a wardrobe. The single,unattractive garment she had worn on her arrival had not survived thegirls' attempts to wash it. They had left it boiling on the stove, thewater had cooked off and the faded gingham had cooked also.
To make up for this accident, all four of the Cottagers had contributedall they could find of their own cast-off garments; but these of coursewere much too large without considerable making over.
"If," said Jean, reproachfully, as she took a large tuck in thegrown-up stocking that she was trying to re-model for Rosa Marie,"you'd only let me tell my mother, she'd give us every blessed thingwe need. One live little Indian in the hand ought to be worth more toher than a whole dozen invisible ones on a way-off Reservation; and youknow she's always doing things for _them_."
"Jeanie Mapes!" threatened Mabel, "if you tell her, that's the verylast breath I'll ever speak to you."
"I'll be good," sighed Jean, "but I just hate _not_ telling her. Andthis horrid stocking is _still_ too long."
"Button it about her neck," giggled Marjory, who flatly declined to doany sewing for Rosa Marie. "That'll take up the slack and save makingher a shirt."
"Don't bother about stockings," said Bettie, fishing a round lump fromher blouse. "Here's a pair of old ones that I found in the rag bag.One's black and the other's tan; but they're exactly the right size andthat's _something_."
"What's the use," demurred Marjory. "She won't wear them."
"If Rosa Marie were about eight shades slimmer," said Jean, "I couldeasily get some of Anne Halliday's dear little dresses--her mother gavemy mother a lot day before yesterday for that Reservation box; butgoodness! You'd have to sew two of them together sideways to get themaround _that_ child."
"She _is_ awfully thick," admitted Mabel.
Yet, after all, dressing Rosa Marie was not exactly a hardship. Indeed,it is probable that the difficulties that stood in the way made thetask only so much the more interesting; then, of course, dressing areal child was much more exciting than making garments for a mere doll.
Whenever the Cottagers spoke of Rosa Marie outside the Cottage theyreferred to her as the D. S. D. S. stood for "Dark Secret." This seemedsingularly appropriate, for Rosa Marie was certainly dark and quite ascertainly a most tremendous secret--a far larger and darker secret thanthe troubled girls cared to keep, but there seemed to be no immediateway out of it.
Fortunately, the stolid little "D. S." was amiable to an astonishingdegree. She never cried. Also, she "stayed put." If Mabel stood her inthe corner she stayed there. If she were tucked into bed, there sheremained until some one dragged her out. She spent her days rollingcontentedly about the Cottage floor, her nights in deep, calm slumber.Never was there a youngster with fewer wants. Teaching Rosa Marie totalk furnished the Cottagers with great amusement. The round browndamsel very evidently preferred grunts to words; but she was alwayswilling to grunt obligingly when Mabel or the others insisted.
"Say, 'This little pig went to market,'" Mabel would prompt.
"Eigh, ugh, ugh, ee, ee, _ee_, hee!" Rosa Marie would grunt.
Then, when everybody else laughed her very hardest, Rosa Marie's grimlittle mouth would relax to show for an instant the row of white teeththat Mabel scrubbed industriously many times a day. This rare smilemade the borrowed baby almost attractive. But not to Marjory. From thefirst, Marjory regarded her with strong disapproval.
Fortunately for Mabel's secret, little Anne Halliday, the Marcottetwins and the two Tucker babies were too small to tell tales out ofschool, so in spite of sundry narrow escapes, Rosa Marie remained asdark a secret as one's heart could desire.