go on, take some."

Not to seem unfriendly, Rosie accepted a handful. Crunching the shells
between her fingers comforted her a little. It was the sort of treatment
she would like to give some people--at any rate, it was the kind they
deserved. She didn't exactly name the peanuts, but she gave them
initials. To the small ones she gave the initial _J_, to the large ones
G.

"Do you suppose those two are spoonin' up there yet?" Tom asked finally.

"What two?"

"Why, George Riley and Janet." And Tom Sullivan, who was supposed to be
bashful, looked at Rosie with a meaning smile.

Rosie returned the glance with fire and daggers. "Don't you move your
old chair any closer to me, Tom Sullivan!"

"Aw, now, Rosie----" Tom began, but Rosie cut him short, for the
landing-bell was sounding and it was time for them to pick up their
disreputable friends.

George and Janet were all for acting as if nothing unusual had happened,
and Rosie scorned them afresh for the useless hypocrisy.

The journey home was stupid and unpleasant. The cars were crowded and
people were ill-natured and rude and everything in general was horrid.
The wind kept blowing Rosie's streamers into her eyes until she was
ready to tear them off.... Would they never get home?

Janet McFadden, her dull black eyes fixed in a dream, heeded nothing.
But at the corner where their ways parted Rosie saw to it that she
heard something. When Janet offered farewells, Rosie called out with
unmistakable emphasis:

"Good-night, _Tom!_ I've had a very pleasant time with _you!_"

Like Janet, George Riley seemed to think that everything was as before.
He himself was quiet, with the drowsy languor that follows an evening's
excitement, and he seemed to be attributing Rosie's silence to the same
cause.

When they got home, Rosie tried to show him his mistake. The gas in the
little hallway was burning low, and George turned it high to light Rosie
upstairs.

Rosie started off without a word.

"Aren't you going to kiss me good-night, Rosie?"

At that Rosie turned slowly about and gazed down upon him with all the
hauteur of an offended queen. "There's just one thing I want to tell
you, Jarge Riley: because you kiss Janet McFadden, you needn't think you
can kiss _any_ girl!"

"Why, Rosie!" George began. But Rosie was already gone.

[Illustration: "Because you kiss Janet McFadden, you needn't think you
can kiss _any_ girl."]

CHAPTER XIII

JANET EXPLAINS

By