y before. She hadn't
supposed he could talk that way to her. The unexpectedness of it was
like a blow. For the first time in their acquaintance she shrank from
him. Her face quivered, her eyes filled with tears. "Why, Jarge!" she
stammered again.

The motorman of George's car sounded his gong in warning and George,
without another word, dropped the pail at Rosie's feet and jumped
aboard.

Rosie, dazed and crushed, stood where she was until the car disappeared.
At first she was too hurt to cry out; too surprised by the suddenness of
the attack to formulate her protest in words. One thing only was clear,
namely, that George Riley had failed her. She could never again believe
in him blindly, implicitly, as heretofore. There she had been supposing
him so much better than any one else, and he wasn't at all. Probably he
wasn't as good!... One little corner of her heart pleaded for him,
whispering that poor George must have forgotten himself for the moment
because, like the rest of the world, he was crazy with the heat. But
Rosie silenced the whisper by exclaiming passionately: "Even if he was,
I don't see why he had to go and take it out on me! I'm sure I'm not to
blame!"

After a pause her heart again sought weakly to excuse him by suggesting
that perhaps Mrs. O'Brien did serve fried ham with a certain monotonous
regularity. Rosie was not to be taken in by that. "Well," she demanded
grimly, "what does he expect on a five-dollar-a-week board, with meat
the price it is! Lamb chops and porterhouse steak?" After that her heart
said nothing more, realizing, apparently, that so long as Rosie cared to
nurse her grievance, she could find reasons in plenty. And Rosie did
care to nurse it, and by the act of nursing soon changed it from a
feeling of bewildered woe to one of mounting indignation.... If George
Riley wanted to act that way, very well, let him do so. But he better
not think that she, Rosie O'Brien, would stand for any such treatment,
for she just wouldn't!

At home she was able to explain quietly enough that George hadn't wanted
any supper. Jack at once called out: "Give me his ham! Aw, please, now,
Rosie, give it to me! Give it to me!"

"No, Jackie, you're too little to have meat at supper," Rosie explained.
"This is for Terry. Here, Terry."

Terence accepted the windfall with a gallant, "Thanks, Rosie." Then he
added: "But don't you want a piece of it yourself?"

"No, Terry, I'm not hungry. Besides, ma has saved