e! Poor Janet won't be in our way and she would
love to be with us. Tom Sullivan don't talk much and he's got red hair,
but he's awful nice, really he is. I told you he was trying to get me a
ticket before you invited me. And besides, Jarge, if we get tired of
them we can give them the slip for a little while."

As soon as Rosie paused for breath, George said: "Of course we'll let
Janet and Tom Sullivan come with us if you want them. This is to be your
party and you're to have things your own way."

Rosie looked her adoration. "Oh, Jarge, you're just too kind to me,
really you are!"

The new dress was a great success. It was a little rosebud dimity, pink
and pale green, which Ellen designed in pretty summer fashion to make
the most of Rosie's well-turned little arms and graceful neck. On a
ten-cent bargain counter Ellen had found a hat of yellow straw which was
just the thing to shape into a little bonnet and trim with a wreath of
pink rosebuds and two soft green streamers which hung down on either
side.

Ellen planned and worked and was happier than Rosie herself over each
new effect. Mrs. O'Brien, hovering about, beamed with approval.

"Ellen's an artist with her needle," she declared over and over again.
"She is indeed. How she does remind me of me own poor dead sister
Birdie! There was a milliner in Dublin would have give her two eyes to
get Birdie into her shop."

Mrs. O'Brien was right. Ellen was an artist with her needle and took all
an artist's joy in her own creation. As she worked on Rosie's costume,
she showed none of that impatient, overbearing selfishness which marked
her so disagreeably at other times, but was gentle, frank, and
affectionate. Once when she pricked Rosie's shoulders by accident she
kissed the hurt away, and Rosie, surprised and touched, threw her arms
impulsively about her neck.

"Why can't you always be like this to me, Ellen? I'd just love you
dearly if you were."

Ellen laughed a little shamefacedly. "Ain't I nice all the time, Rosie?
Well, I'm afraid it's that old business college. It gets on my nerves.
I suppose I ought to be studying now, but I'm not going to. I'm not
going to stop until I finish this for you."

On the afternoon of the picnic, Ellen was so proud of Rosie's appearance
that for once she forgot her haughtiness to George Riley. "Now tell the
truth, George, aren't you glad it's Rosie instead of me?"

George gave Ellen one sick look, gulped, then said bravely: "