"I'll let you up on
the roof. It ain't long on grassy spots up there, but say, breeze!
Like a summer resort. On a clear day you can see way over 's far
's Eight' Avenoo. Only for the love of Mike don't blab it to the
other women folks in the buildin', or I'll have the whole works of
'em usin' the roof for a general sun, massage, an' beauty parlor.
Come on."
"I'll never breathe it to a soul," promised Mary Louise,
solemnly. "Oh, wait a minute."
She turned back into her room, appearing again in a moment
with something green in her hand.
"What's that?" asked Charlie, suspiciously.
Mary Louise, speeding down the narrow hallway after Charlie,
blushed a little. "It--it's parsley," she faltered.
"Parsley!" exploded Charlie. "Well, what the----"
"Well, you see. I'm from the country," explained Mary Louise,
"and in the country, at this time of year, when you dry your hair
in the back yard, you get the most wonderful scent of green and
growing things--not only of flowers, you know, but of the new
things just coming up in the vegetable garden, and--and--well, this
parsley happens to be the only really gardeny thing I have, so I
thought I'd bring it along and sniff it once in a while, and make
believe it's the country, up there on the roof."
Half-way up the perilous little flight of stairs that led to
the roof, Charlie, the janitor, turned to gaze down at Mary Louise,
who was just behind, and keeping fearfully out of the way of
Charlie's heels.
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