THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

New Zealand Tablet, 16 January 1913, Page 61

THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

‘ I know I’m never going to like this house,’ Louise said to herself, as she swallowed hard, and had to stop in her work to hunt for her handkerchief. And there was really some excuse for feeling as she did. When people are moving into a house, and pots and kettles and nail kegs stand in the middle of the parlor floor, while the furniture, covered with old quilts and burlap, is huddled into corners, it is very hard to make one’s self believe that the place can ever be homelike and comfortable.

But it was not the thought of the old house where she lived so long that made Louise homesick at this particular minute. She was thinking more of the girls who had been her neighbors ever since she could remember. It wasn’t very likely that in this new home she would find any girls to compare with Elizabeth or Kitty Fox. As she thought of them, she had to hunt for her handkerchief again, and then she raced upstairs to the room which was to be her bedroom, by and by, though at present it looked to her like a disorderly carpenter’s shop. Louise had a deep-rooted aversion to letting anybody see her cry. The girl in the next yard happened to look at the dormer window at a time when the handkerchief was very busy, and as she looked, she understood. Jeanne had moved not so very long before, and she remembered her own homesick feeling too vividly not to feel sorry for the girl who had gone upstairs to cry by herself. ‘ Everything is all in a muss,’ thought Jeanne, ‘ and they’ll clear a corner of the table so as to eat their luncheon, and probably there won’t be much to eat at that.’

Then it was that an idea occurred to hersuch a bright idea that she all at once left her post of observation in the yard and rushed indoors. And Jeanne’s mother not only approved, but gave a number of wise suggestions. For the next three-quarters of an hour Jeanne was very busy, and by that time the. distant ,factory whistles were blowing for noon, and Louise, . who had had her cry out and come downstairs to her work, was beginning to realise that she was hungry. Then a rap came at the door. A girl was standing on the doorstep —a smiling girl who carried a big tray. A white towel was thrown over the top of the tray, so that it was impossible to guess at its contents. But a pleasant odor, almost a fragrance, rose temptingly to Louise’s nostrils. ' ‘l’ve brought you over some luncheon,’ said the new neighbor on the doorstep. ‘ It is so hard to get anything to eat when you are just moving in, and

things are all in a clutter. I’ll come back for the tray in an hour or so, anddon’t you dare to wash a dish. I don’t believe you could find the dish-towels anyway,’ she ended with a laugh. '■ It was the sort of luncheon to put life and cheer into a family of movers. There were sandwiches cut as thin as wafers, some of them showing a crisp lettuce leaf between the white sides. There were potato chips curling on the edge like rose leaves, , and sliced tomatoes, and a dish of beautiful jelly, so clear that you could look through it, and a pot of tea whose fragrance had risen to Louise in spite of the white towel which had covered it. And there was a little dish of salted- almonds and one of pickles, to say nothing of a plate of the crispest ginger-snaps you could imagine. By the time they had finished that luncheon, Louise had changed her mind about everything; the house no longer seemed a dismal, disorderly place that never could be a real home. Instead she was beginning to see how it could be very pretty and attractive, as soon as they should have time to get things in order. As for her new neighbors, Louise was beginning to look forward eagerly to knowing them better. That girl who had brought the'tray looked a perfect dear, Louise decided. And when she had eaten the last crumb of the last ginger-snap, and went to work again, she was singing under her breath, There’s no place like home, O, there’s no place like home.’