"Now!" Everything was on the table and there was no further excuse for Mrs. O'Brien's not seating herself. She dropped into a chair and beamed upon Rosie triumphantly. "And just to think, Rosie dear, that you don't yet know about Ellen! Ellen's got a job! She's starting in on eight dollars a week and she's to go to ten in a couple of weeks if she's satisfactory. And you know yourself that twenty dollars is nothing for a fine stenographer to be getting nowadays. And twenty a week means eighty a month and eighty a month means close on to a thousand a year! Now I do say that a thousand a year is a pretty big lump of money for a girl like Ellen to be making!"

Mrs. O'Brien's enthusiasm was genuine but scarcely infectious. Terence jerked his head toward Rosie with a dry aside: "She started work yesterday on a week's trial."

Mrs. O'Brien looked at her son reprovingly. "Why, Terry lad, how you talk! On trial, indeed! As if a trial ain't a sure thing with a girl that's got the fine looks and the fine education that Ellen's got!""Fine education—rats! I bet she knows as much about stenography as a bunny!"

His mother gazed on him offended and hurt. "Since you're such a wise young man, Mister Terence O'Brien, perhaps you'll be telling us how much you know about it, yourself."

Terry's answer was prompt: "Not a blamed thing! But I tell you what I do know: I know Ellen, and you can take it from me she's a frost."

Rosie sighed plaintively. "But where does Jarge come in? What's the matter with Jarge."

Terence answered her shortly: "Oh, nuthin'. Ellen only played him one of her little tricks last week and he's mad."

"And I must say," Mrs. O'Brien supplemented, "Jarge does surprise me the way he keeps it up. After all, Ellen's only a young girl and he ought to remember that every young girl makes a mistake now and then."

"What mistake did she make this time?" Rosie spoke as quietly as she could.

"It's a long story," her mother said. "Since you've been gone she met a fella named Finn, Larry Finn, and we all thought him very nice, he was that polite with his hair always brushed and shiny and smooth. He had a good job downtown——"

"You know his kind, Rosie," Terry interposed; "a five dollar a week book-keep—silk socks but no undershirt. Oh, he was a great sport! Ellen was crazy about him.""Terence O'Brien, have ye no manners to be takin' the words out of yir own mother's mouth! Now hold yir tongue while I explain to Rosie." Terence subsided and Mrs. O'Brien started in afresh: "Well, as I was saying, this Finn fella took a great fancy to Ellen and was coming around every night to see her. He took her to the movies and gave her ice-cream sodas and they were getting on fine. Then last week he was going to take her to the Twirler Club's Annual Ball."

"The Twirlers' Ball!" Rosie looked at her mother questioningly.

That lady waved a reassuring hand. "Oh, the ball was all right this year—perfectly nice and decent. Ellen found out about it beforehand. Not like last year! No drunks was to be allowed on the floor and none of them disgraceful dances. Oh, if it had been like last year, I'd never have consented to Ellen's going! You know that, Rosie!"

"Huh!" grunted Terry.

His mother paid no heed to him. "As I was saying, Rosie, the night before the ball, Larry had to come excusing himself because they had just told him he would have to stay working till all hours the next night. So there was poor Ellen, who might have had her pick a week or two earlier, left high and dry at the last moment. I tell you, Rosie, it would have wrung your heart to see the poor girl's disappointment. A girl of less spirit would have given up, but not Ellen. Ellen was going to that ball and you know how firm Ellen is once she makes up her mind. So she just asked Jarge Riley to take her."

"Ma! Do you mean to say she had the cheek to ask poor Jarge after the way she's been treating him all these months!"

"Ah, ah, don't look at me that way, Rosie! Of course I mean it. Why shouldn't she ask him? He's a nice fella and, besides that, he's a friend of the family."

"Say, Terry, what do you know about that?" Rosie appealed to her brother sure that he, at least, would understand the humiliation she felt both at Ellen's manoeuvre and at their mother's calm acceptance of it.

Terry did understand and gave her the sympathy of a quick nod and a short laugh. "What do you expect? You know Ellen."

"Well, all I got to say is: it's a shame!" Tears of indignation stood in Rosie's eyes. "She treats him like a dog and then, when it suits her, she makes use of him. It's an outrage—that's what it is! I suppose he went, of course. Poor Jarge is so easy."

Mrs. O'Brien nodded her head. "Sure he went. He didn't want to at first because he didn't like Ellen mixing up with the Twirlers. When she insisted, he said, all right, he'd go."

"Is that all?" Rosie asked.

"All!" echoed her mother. "Bless your heart, no! It's hardly the beginning!"Rosie sighed.

"Aw, Ma," Terry protested, "look at you! You're tiring Rosie all out and it's only her first day home. Why don't you spit it out quick?"

"Terry, Terry, that's not a nice way to talk, telling your poor ma to spit it out! Shame on you, lad, for using such a word!"

"Well, what happened at the ball?" Rosie begged.

"I was coming to that, Rosie dear, when Terry interrupted me. As I was saying, who showed up at the ball quite unexpected-like but Larry Finn. When Ellen saw Larry she turned to Jarge and says to him that, if he wanted to go home early, he needn't wait for her, that Larry would take care of her."

"Oh, Ma!" Rosie's eyes grew bright and her cheeks a deeper pink. "Do you mean to say after letting poor Jarge take her and pay her admission she turned around and treated him like that!"

Mrs. O'Brien lifted disclaiming hands. "Mind now, I'm not trying to defend Ellen, but I do say she's only a young girl and young girls make mistakes now and then."

"Well,"—Rosie tried to speak quietly—"what did Jarge do?"

"What did Jarge do? Something awful! Now remember, Rosie dear, I'm not trying to run Jarge down. He's a nice fella and he's a kind fella and I've never had a boarder that was so easy to please and, as I've told you before, it was mighty good of him having his mother invite you and Geraldine to the country. But I must say he did act something scandalous that night."

Mrs. O'Brien paused to shake her head impressively and Rosie, in desperation, appealed to Terence. "Tell me, Terry, what did he do?"

Terry grinned. "What did he do? Why, he laid for Larry Finn and, when Larry and Ellen came out, he punched Larry's face for him!"

"It was something awful!" Mrs. O'Brien again declared. "Every day for a week poor Larry had to carry a black eye with him down to the office. And you know yourself the way other men laugh at a black eye. And he's not been here to see Ellen since and Ellen's awful mad and, besides that, no one else has been coming, for the word has gone out that Jarge'll kill any fella that's fool enough to be showin' his face."

"Well, it's just good for her, too!" Ellen's unexpected plight was the one thing in the whole situation that gave Rosie any satisfaction. However, she gloated on it only for a moment. "But about Jarge, Terry—did he get pulled in that night?"

Terry shook his head. "No. You see the ball was ending up in a free-for-all, just like the Twirlers always do, and the cops were so busy inside that there was no one left to pay any attention to a little thing like Jarge's scrap.""And I must say," Mrs. O'Brien continued, "I'm sorry for that poor Larry Finn, for it wasn't his fault at all, at all. It was Ellen's own arrangement."

"That's so," Rosie agreed. "By rights Ellen's the one that ought to have got beat up."

"Why, Rosie, I'm surprised to hear you say such a thing and about your own sister, too!"

Mrs. O'Brien's surprise was lost upon Rosie, who was looking intently at her father. "Say, Dad, what do you think of a girl doing a trick like that on two decent fellows?"

Jamie O'Brien, who had said nothing up to this, took a drink of tea, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and slowly cleared his throat. "It's me own opinion, Rosie, it's a very risky game that Ellen's playing."

"Risky? It's worse than risky: it's dishonest."

Rosie started to push back her chair, but her mother stretched out a detaining hand. "Wait a minute, Rosie. You haven't yet heard what I'm trying to tell you."

Rosie's eyes opened wide. "Is there any more?"

"To be sure there is, Rosie. You've only heard the beginning."

Rosie dropped back in her chair a little limply. What more could there be?

Mrs. O'Brien breathed hard and long; she sighed; she gazed about at the various members of her family. At last she spoke:"I don't know what's come over Jarge since that night. You know yourself what an easy-going young fella he's always been, never holding a grudge, always ready to let bygones be bygones. Well, he's never forgiven Ellen from that night on. He scowls at her like a storm-cloud every time he sees her and last week, Rosie—why, you'll hardly believe me when I tell you what he said to her last week. We were all sitting here at the table: your poor da over there, and Terry in his place, and Jack beside him, and meself here. Ellen made some thriflin' remark about how silly a girl is to marry herself to one man when she might be going around having a good time with half a dozen—nuthin' at all, you understand, just the way Ellen always runs on, when, before I knew what was happening, Jarge jumped to his feet and pounded the table until every dish on it was rattlin'. 'That's how you feel, is it?' says he, glaring at poor Ellen like a mad bull. 'Well, if that's your little game,' says he, 'I've been a goat long enough. Not another thing will I ever do for you, Ellen O'Brien, not another blessed cent will I ever spend on you until you tell me you'll marry me and set the date. And what's more,' says he, 'I'll give you one month from today to decide,' says he. 'I'll be going back to the farm in September,' says he, 'so it's time I knew pretty straight just where we stand. So no more foolin', me lady,' says he. 'It's to be yes or no to Jarge Riley and that's the end of it.'""Good for Jarge! Good for Jarge!" Rosie cried, clapping her hands in excitement. "He was able for her that time, wasn't he?"

"Able for her, Rosie? Well, I must say it's a mighty strange way for a young fella to talk that's courtin' a girl. Your own poor da never talked that way to me, did you, Jamie dear? I wouldn't have stood it! I give you me word of honour I wouldn't!"

Terry chuckled and Rosie, glancing at her meek quiet little father, also smiled for an instant. Then her face again went grave.

"How did Ellen take it? Did she tell him once for all she'd never have him?"

"Bless your poor innocent heart, no!" Mrs. O'Brien was astonished at the mere suggestion. "That'd be a strange thing for a girl to tell a man! Of course, though, it ain't likely that Ellen ever will have him. Jarge is all right, understand, but take Ellen with her fine looks and her fine education and it's me own opinion that some of these days she'll be making a big match. Especially now that she's going around to them offices downtown where she'll be meeting lots of rich business men."

"Of course, Ma, that's the way you look at it and the way Ellen looks at it. Neither of you thinks of poor old Jarge one little bit."

"Nonsense, Rosie. I like Jarge and so does Ellen. But you mustn't be blaming a girl like Ellen for not throwing over a good useful beau like Jarge until she's made sure of some one better. It's fine for Ellen to have Jarge to fall back on."

"To fall back on!" Rosie echoed.

Jamie O'Brien slowly pushed away his chair and cleared his throat. "It's me own opinion," he announced gravely, "that Jarge is too good for Ellen by far."

"You bet he is!" Rosie declared fiercely.

Mrs. O'Brien looked hurt and grieved. "I don't see how you can all talk that way about poor Ellen. Besides his other virtues, you'll soon be telling me that Jarge is a good-looker!"

"A good-looker!" Rosie cried. "Ma, how can you talk that way? His looks are all right and Jarge himself is all right."

Mrs. O'Brien fumbled a moment. "It's not that I meself object to his looks, understand, but Ellen, being so fine looking herself, is mighty particular. She likes them big and handsome and stylish and dressy."

"Like Larry Finn," snickered Terry.

Mrs. O'Brien pretended not to hear.

Rosie, with sober quiet face, pushed back her chair and began clearing the table.

"No, no, not today, Rosie," her mother insisted. "You're not going to start right off with dish-washing. You're company for one day at least, ain't she, Jamie? So take Terry and Jack out in front and tell them about the country. Jack wants to hear all about the pigs and cows, don't you, Jackie dear?"

"Not just now," Jack answered truthfully. "I got to go out and see a fellow. But thanks for that turtle, Rosie."

Rosie paused a moment in doubt until her father nodded encouragingly and Terry, putting an arm about her shoulder, drew her away.

"I sure am glad to see you home again," he said when they were alone.

Rosie looked up at him affectionately. "And I'm glad to be home, Terry. But I'm awful sorry about poor Jarge."

"Don't you worry about Jarge," Terry advised. "If Ellen did take him it would be the worst thing that ever happened him."

"I know, Terry, but I can't bear to have him so unhappy."

"Well, take it from me, he'd be unhappier if he got Ellen."

Rosie paused a moment. "Say, Terry, is she worse since she's got a job?"

Terry answered shortly: "She's the limit! She's making a bigger fool than ever of ma. Wait till you see her tonight."

"I don't want to see her. She always rubs me the wrong way and makes me say things I don't want to say. But I do want to see poor old Jarge.... Say, Terry, don't it beat all the way a good sensible fellow like Jarge goes crazy over a girl like Ellen? How do you account for it?"

Terry shook his head. "Search me."

"They always do," Rosie continued.

"Well, I tell you one thing, Rosie: I be blamed if ever I fall in love with a girl that ain't nice!" Fourteen years old looked out upon the world firmly and resolutely. "Not on your life!"

"I wouldn't either, Terry, if I was you! 'Tain't sensible!" And twelve years old shook her head sagely.