ve a dimple in her thin little cheek.

Rosanna commenced to play scales. She took the C scale--it was so easy
that she could think. She was so happy that she played it in a very
prancy way, up and down, up and down. Then it commenced to stumble and
go ve-ry, v-e-r-y slowly. Rosanna had had an awful thought. The same
thought had really been there all the time, but her heart was making
such a happy noise that she wouldn't let herself hear it. Now, however,
it made such a racket she just had to listen. Over and over with the
scales it said loudly and harshly, "Will your grandmother let you play
with that little girl who lives over the garage? Will your grandmother
even let you _know_ that little girl who lives over the garage? Will
she? Will she?"

Rosanna Horton knew the answer perfectly well.

CHAPTER III

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 ar