urse, of course. At last Rosie was seeing things as they really
were, and seeing them thus made her heartsick when she remembered how
she had spoken to kind old George Riley. How could she ever put herself
right with him?... She would be carrying his supper up to the cars at
six o'clock. There would be only an instant of time, but an instant
would be enough for her to say: "Oh, Jarge, I've just been happy all day
long thinking about the good time you gave me yesterday! Me and Janet
have been talking about it. Thanks, thanks so much!" And George Riley,
if she knew him at all, instead of recalling her foolish words of last
night, would grin all over and gasp out: "Aw, Rosie, that wasn't nuthin'
at all!" That was the sort of fellow George was!...

"But listen here, Rosie," Janet's voice was continuing in tones of
humble entreaty; "if I'd ha' known it would ha' made you mad, I wouldn't
have asked Jarge Riley--honest I wouldn't. You believe me, don't you,
Rosie?"

Tears were in Rosie's throat and self-abasement in her heart. Words,
however, came hard. Fortunately she could slip her arm about Janet's
neck in the old sweet, intimate fashion and Janet would understand that
all was well between them.

"And, Janet dear, are you sure that Tom'll tell his mother?"

"Yes, I'm sure, because I made him promise not to."

"Why, Janet!"

"Sure, Rosie. You see Aunt Kitty'll ask him all about things and he'll
tell about you and how pretty you looked and about Jarge Riley, and then
Aunt Kitty'll begin making fun of me and that'll make Tom mad and he'll
tell Aunt Kitty not to be so sure, and then she'll see he's holding back
something and she'll tease until she gets it out of him.... Oh, Rosie, I
tell you I know her just as well! I can just hear her! And when Tom
tells her how mad you are, that'll make her believe the rest.... But
honestly, Rosie, I didn't know you was mad till Tom told me."

"Tom!" Rosie was indignant at once. "Do you mean to say Tom Sullivan
told you I was mad? Well, the next time you see Tom Sullivan you tell
him for me to mind his own business!" Rosie paused a moment, then drew
Janet closer to her. "Mad? What's eating Tom Sullivan? Friends like you
and me, Janet, don't get _mad_!"

And Janet McFadden, shaking her head in horror that any one should even
suggest such a thing, declared emphatically: "Of course not!"

CHAPTER XIV

ON SCARS AND BRUISES

A few mornings later Rosie was seated on the front s