im. Besides, I ain't dead sure it was that boy, but I think
it was."

Mrs. O'Brien's interest in the situation equalled Janet's own.

"I see exactly the place you're in, Janet, and I must say it's wise, the
stand you take."

Mrs. O'Brien bit off a strand of darning cotton, and carefully stiffened
the end.

"You see," Janet continued, "it's this way with me. I'm an only child,
and you know yourself how men act about their only child."

"I do, indeed, Janet, and I feel for you." From her sympathetic
understanding of Janet's problem, one would never have supposed that
Mrs. O'Brien herself was the mother of a large family, and had been the
child of a larger one. She held up a sock impressively. "You're quite
right, Janet. Your da might do somethin' awful. There's no holdin' back
some men when they take it into their heads that their only child has
been mistreated."

Rosie sighed inwardly. She had very little of that histrionic sense that
prompts people to assume a part and play it out in all seriousness. At
first such a performance as the present one wearied her. Why in the
world do people pretend a thing when they know perfectly well that they
are pretending? Then, as the moments passed, she grew interested in
spite of herself, for the acting of her mother and Janet was most
convincing. At last she was not quite sure that it was acting. She was
brought back to her senses by Janet's turning suddenly to her with the
exclamation:

"Ain't they all o' them just awful, anyhow!"

No need to ask Janet of whom she was speaking. It was an old practice of
hers, this glorifying her father in one breath, and in the next
vilifying men in general. Rosie protested at once:

"Why are they awful? I think they're nice."

Janet looked at her in kindly commiseration.

"Well, then, Rosie, all I got to say is--you don't know 'em."

"I don't know them! Well, I like that!" Rosie was indignant now. "I
guess I know them as well as you do!" Rosie paused, then concluded in
triumph: "Don't I know my own brother Terry? I guess he's all right!"

"Terry," Janet repeated, with a significant headshake. "Now I suppose,
Rosie, you think you and Terry are great friends, don't you?"

"I don't think so; I know so."

Janet laughed cynically.

"Yes, I suppose you and him are great friends as long as you run your
legs off for him. But listen to me, Rosie O'Brien! Do you know what he'd
do to you if you was to lose one of his paper customers? He'd