The grotesque little figure of Dinney tramping back into Treeless Street
with his rattling cart lurching behind him, was all that remained of
what seemed to Gloria now must have been a dream. She glanced up at
the street's name, at its juncture with the main street, and started
suddenly, in very astonishment. The name she read pointed playful,
jeering letters at her. She had always known there was a street in
Tilford by that name--but not this, _this_ street! Pleasant Street!
Gloria walked the rest of the way as in a dream.
* * * * *
"Uncle Em, aren't tenements unsafe to live in," Gloria asked at supper,
"when they lean every which way? Oughtn't there to be a law to tear them
down?" Gloria was too intent on her own musings to intercept the swift
glance her guardian gave her.
"Supposing one tumbled down, with little children in it and outside it!
What did they name that awful street Pleasant Street for?"
Aunt Em's comely face wore a queer expression. She began to speak, then
stopped.
"Don't you want to hear what kind of a runabout I ordered on the way
home, Rosy-Posie?" What freak of fate made Uncle Em call her Rosy-Posie?
Gloria winced as if with pain at thought of the girl Rosie--with eyes
like hers--on Treeless Street.
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