osie's face.
"Don't forget, kid, you're my girl now. And I tell you what: I'm going
to show you a swell time!"

"It's just as you say, Jarge," Rosie murmured meekly.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE SUBSTITUTE LADY

Rosie now entered upon a season of unparalleled gaiety. It was as if she
were being rewarded for her generosity in thinking not of herself nor of
her dislike for the object of George's fancy but only of George and of
his happiness. It had been something of a struggle in the first place to
advise a course of action which really might awaken in Ellen an
appreciation of George's worth. Well, Rosie had advised it in all
frankness and sincerity. That the putting into practice of this advice
was working out to Rosie's own advantage is neither here nor there. If,
in the campaign which she and Danny had planned, there had to be a
substitute lady, why, as an after-thought, should not Rosie herself be
that lady?

With George, Rosie never forgot that the relationship was a substitute
one. Whenever he did something particularly lover-like, she would
commend him as a teacher commends an apt pupil: "Jarge, you certainly
are learning!" or, "I don't care what you say, Jarge, but if you were
really making love to me and acted this beautiful, you sure could have
me!"

In giving him hints about new attentions, she never made the matter
personal. She would say, casually: "Now there's one thing a girl just
loves, Jarge, and you ought to know it. It's to have her beau do
unexpected things for her. I mean if he's used to giving her candy every
night, it just tickles her to death to get up some morning and find a
little package waiting for her. And if he goes to the trouble of
sticking in a little note that says:

"'My dearest Sweetheart, I couldn't wait until to-night to give
you this....'

why, she just goes crazy about him. Whatever you do, Jarge, you mustn't
forget that girls love to get notes all the time."

This particular instruction Rosie had frequently to repeat before George
put it into execution. "Aw, now, Rosie," he used to plead, "you know
perfectly well I ain't nuthin' of a letter-writer."

But Rosie was firm. "Do as you like," she would say, "but you can take
it from me they ain't nuthin' like letters to make a girl sit up. You're
practising on me, so you might as well practise right. Besides, it's not
hard, really it's not. You don't have to be fancy. Why, I once heard a
girl tell about a letter tha