<SPAN name="ROSE-RED_AND_RUTHIE_156" id="ROSE-RED_AND_RUTHIE_156"></SPAN>
<h3>ROSE-RED AND RUTHIE</h3>
<p><SPAN class="pagenum" name="page_11" id="page_11" title="11"></SPAN>It
was Rose Mary's mother who named her Rose-Red. Rose-Ready, it was at
first, because Rose Mary was always ready to help. Then it became just
Rose-Red, for short.</p>
<p>Rose-Red had much of the sweetness of her name flower, and few of the
thorns. That is why, when Ruthie slapped her, Rose-Red didn't slap back.
But she came home crying.</p>
<p>Rose-Red's mamma gathered her up in her arms and comforted her.
"Ruthie's probably sorry now, dear," she said. "Perhaps she will tell
you so by and by. Will my little girl be Rose-Ready, if she does?"</p>
<p>"Rose-Ready for what, mamma?" Rose-Red sat up and dried her eyes.</p>
<p>"Rose-Ready-to-Forgive."</p>
<p>Rose-Red nodded. "I think I'll gather the posies now," was all she said.</p>
<p>Every day Rose-Red cut fresh flowers in the garden and arranged them for
the house. <SPAN class="pagenum" name="page_12" id="page_12" title="12"></SPAN>It was the one thing in all the world she liked best to do.
The roses she always left till the last—"for dessert," she explained.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="illus-009" id="illus-009"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/gn09.jpg" alt="Rose-Red's mamma gathered her up in her arms and comforted her" title="" /><br/> <span class="caption">Rose-Red's mamma gathered her up in her arms and comforted her</span></div>
<p>"Roses, dear," she said, as she tucked them one by one into their
special bowl, "what would you do if your best friend slapped you?"</p>
<p>Just then a thorn pricked Rose-Red's finger. "You'd prick her, would
you?" Rose-Red laughed. "That's because you are only a rose and don't
know any better. It wouldn't be nice for a little girl to prick. I <i>do</i>
know something better!"</p>
<p>Rose-Red chose six of the finest roses and <SPAN class="pagenum" name="page_13" id="page_13" title="13"></SPAN>carefully clipped off all
their thorns. Then she ran to the gate between her yard and Ruthie's,
and slipped them into a covered box beside it. This box was Rose-Red's
and Ruthie's post office. Nearly every day something went into it from
one little girl to the other.</p>
<p>Four o'clock was mail time. Postman Rose-Red hid behind a bush and
watched.</p>
<p>Presently Postman Ruthie came down the path. She opened the box and took
out the fragrant "letter." Then she laid something inside, drew down the
cover, and ran back.</p>
<p>It was Postman Rose-Red's turn now to open the box. Her letter was a
<i>real</i> one. It said, "I'm sorry."</p>
<p>Rose-Ready-to-Forgive flew through the gate.</p>
<p>"Ruthie! Ruthie!" she called.</p>
<p>And then Rose-Red kissed Ruthie, and Ruthie kissed Rose-Red. And that
was the last of Ruthie-Ready-to-Slap.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="illus-010" id="illus-010"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/gn10.jpg" alt="" title="" /><br/></div>
<hr class="major" />
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />