ttle picnic supper as soon as they landed, topped off
with ice-cream, and then, unencumbered with shoe-boxes, sought out the
allurements of sideshows, aerial and subterranean thrillers, and dancing
pavilion. Rosie insisted that they go into nothing that cost over ten
cents. By adopting this principle and making frequent excursions to the
dancing pavilion, which was free, they were so well able to husband
their resources that George's two dollars and Tom Sullivan's fifty cents
carried them through the evening.

It seemed to Rosie she had never enjoyed so perfect a picnic. All the
thrillers really thrilled. Capitana, the giantess snake-charmer, was
actually a giantess, and the snakes she wound about her fat neck were
fully as long and as spotted and as green as the posters made out. And
so on through everything they tried.

"I've never had such a good time in my life!" Rosie declared, as they
hurried off to the ten-o'clock boat.

"Me, too!" gasped Janet in solemn, sepulchral tones.

Looking at the strained expression of happiness on Janet's face, Rosie
suddenly thought of something new that would fittingly crown the day's
adventures. Out of her own abundance she would give Janet another crumb
that would make her eternally grateful.

"Say, Jarge," she whispered coaxingly, "will you do something for me?"

George looked down at her indulgently. "Of course I will. Anything you
want."

"Well then, listen, Jarge: Will you take Janet all the way home and be
real nice to her and pretend she's your girl and pet her real, real
hard. Nobody ever pets Janet, and she never has a good time except when
she's with me. And I'll take Tom Sullivan."

George laughed a good-natured "All right," and Rosie, turning around,
said to Janet: "Jarge don't want me any more, do you, Jarge? He wants
you, Janet, don't you, Jarge, want Janet? So will you let Tom Sullivan
take me?"

"Oh, Rosie!" Janet threw incredulous eyes to heaven and clutched her
hands together in a joy that was serious as grief.

Rosie pushed her up to George and George, capturing her cold fingers,
drew them through his arm. Then Rosie, glowing all over in virtuous
self-approval, dropped behind with Tom Sullivan.

CHAPTER XII

THE LOAN OF A GENTLEMAN FRIEND

The wives and mothers, with sleepy, crying children, cluttered up the
lower decks. The young people by some common instinct seemed all to be
drawn to the quiet and moonlight of the upper deck. There Rosie'