ys did think she was a nice baby and I never could make out why you
didn't like her more."

"Janet McFadden, how you talk! Of course I like Geraldine! I love her!"
Rosie bounced the baby-carriage vigorously and made direct appeal to
Geraldine herself: "Doesn't sister Rosie love her own baby? Of course
she does! And she's going to take care of her all summer, isn't she?
because ma's too busy."

"Why, Rosie!" Janet began.

Rosie faced square about and with one look challenged Janet to show
further surprise.

"Why--why, isn't that nice!" Janet murmured meekly.

"Of course it's nice and we're going to Boulevard Place every afternoon,
aren't we, Geraldine? We're going there now and Janet can come with us
if she wants to."

Janet wanted to, but she had to refuse. "I can't today, Rosie. I've got
to help my mother. But tomorrow afternoon--will you stop for me then?
I'll expect you."

In this way friendship was restored. Not having to bear the strain of an
insistent questioning from Janet, its restoration was simple. Something
had occurred to change Rosie's attitude in regard to her small brother
and sister and upon this something she was not disposed, evidently, to
be communicative. Well, Janet was not inquisitive. Besides, even if
this subject of conversation was taboo, conversation was not in any
danger of early extinction. When together, Janet and Rosie always
talked--not perfunctorily, either, but with much emphasis and many
headshakings. Goodness me, they never stopped talking! After only a few
hours' separation, each had a hundred things to tell the other. By the
very next day Janet had a bit of news, that was to furnish them an
exciting topic for weeks to come.

When Rosie called for Janet the following afternoon, her knock was
answered by Tom Sullivan, who instantly blushed a glowing crimson and
with difficulty stammered: "Yes, Janet's home. Come on in."

Rosie found Janet and her mother entertaining Mrs. Sullivan, who was
Dave McFadden's sister and therefore Janet's aunt.

At sight of Rosie, Mrs. Sullivan exclaimed gushingly: "If there ain't
Rosie O'Brien! You sweet thing! Come right here and kiss me!"

Rosie had to submit to the caress although she knew it was intended as a
slight to Janet. That was one of Aunt Kitty Sullivan's little ways. Aunt
Kitty was a fat, smiling, middle-aged woman who was going through life
under the delusion that her face still retained the empty prettiness of
its youth.

"I w