d in general supposes, no doubt, that, to a motorman, one day's
run must be much like any other. Rosie knew better.

Jamie very deliberately relit his pipe before answering. Then he said:
"Yes, it was all right, Rosie."

Rosie waited, as she knew from his manner that something more would
finally come. Jamie gazed about thoughtfully, then concluded: "They was
a flat wheel on the rear truck."

Rosie was all sympathy. "Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry! It must ha' been horrid
riding all day on a flat wheel."

Jamie took a puff or two, then announced: "I didn't mind it."

"Well, Dad, did you report it?"

Jamie scratched his head, as if in an effort to remember, and at last
said: "Sure."

After a decent interval, Rosie began again: "Say, Dad, what'd you think
of a man who chased his wife with a hatchet?"

Rosie thought it would be a little indelicate to come right out with
butcher-knife. Hatchet was near enough, anyway. Rosie's idea was that
her father would betray himself by defending the husband. When he did,
she expected to tell him that she knew all. Her imagination did not
carry her beyond this. She was prepared, however, for something
horrible.

Jamie O'Brien turned his head almost quickly. "With a hatchet, did you
say, Rosie?"

"Yes, Dad, with a hatchet."

"That's bad. And is it some one around here that we know?"

"No, it ain't anybody. I was just saying, what would you think of a man
who did that?"

"And it ain't some one we know?"

With a wave of his pipe, Jamie dismissed all hypothetical hatchets, and
returned to the more sensible contemplation of the sky line.

Rosie felt that she was being trifled with. She gazed at her father
meaningly.

"Well, what would you say to a man who chased his wife with a
butcher-knife?"

Again Jamie took an exasperating time to answer, and again his answer
took the form of the question: "Is it some one we know, Rosie?"

Rosie threw discretion to the winds. "I'm sure you ought to know whether
it's some one we know!"

Jamie blinked his eyes slowly and thoughtfully. "I don't seem to place
him, Rosie."

Rosie left him in disgust. Brutality is bad enough, but hypocrisy is
worse. She went as far as the kitchen door, then turned back. She would
give him one more chance.

Again smiling, she put her arms about his neck. "Say, Dad, if you was to
get awful mad at me, what would you do?"

"At you, do you say, Rosie? Well, now, I don't see how any one could get
awful mad at yo