You don't see why poor Janet
wants to cover up that brute of a Dave."

This was exactly what was troubling Rosie, as she agreed readily enough.

"And, Ma," she continued, "do you suppose if my father beat me, I'd go
around pretending he was the best ever? Well, I wouldn't!"

"Your poor da, did you say, Rosie? May God forgive you for havin' such a
thought! Why, that poor lamb wouldn't hurt a fly--he's that gentle! Ah,
Rosie, it's on yir knees ye ought to be every night of yir life,
thankin' God for the kind o' father I picked out for you!"

"I am thankful, but I wouldn't be if he was like Dave McFadden. And I
wouldn't pretend I was, either."

"Ah, it's little ye know about that, Rosie, for just let me tell
ye--ye'd be exactly like Janet if ye were in Janet's shoes."

"I bet I wouldn't!"

"Rosie, ye couldn't help yirself. Ye'd have to stand up for him even if
he was a brute."

"Why would I have to?"

"Because he's your da. Is it possible, Rosie dear, that ye don't yet
know 'tis a woman's first duty to stand up for a man if he's her da, or
her brother, or her husband, or her son? Mercy on us, where would we be
if she didn't? Have ye ever heard me, all the years of your life,
breathe a whisper against Jamie O'Brien?"

"I should think not!" To Rosie this seemed a very poor example of the
principle in question. "How could you? Dad never even beats the boys,
let alone you and me!"

Mrs. O'Brien smacked her lips pensively. "No, he don't beat me." She
sighed slowly. "I mean _now_ he don't."

Rosie looked at her mother with startled eyes. "Ma, what do you mean?"

Mrs. O'Brien sighed again, and took up her darning. "Nuthin' at all,
Rosie. I don't know what I'm sayin'. I can't gab another minute, for I
must finish this sock. So run off, like a good child, and don't bother
me."

"But, Ma"--Rosie's voice dropped to a whisper, and a look of horror came
into her face--"do you mean he used to--beat you?"

"Rosie dear, stop pesterin' me with your questions. Far be it from me to
set child against father, and, besides, as you know yourself, he's
behavin' now. What's past is past. I've said this much to you, Rosie,
so's to give you a hint of the ragin' lions that these here quiet,
soft-spoken little lambs of men keep caged up inside o' them. Oh, I tell
you, Rosie dear, beware o' that kind of a man, for you never know when
the lion in him is goin' to break loose and leap out upon you. Ah, I
know what I'm sayin' to me everl