ic applause.

As the jig ended, Rosie stooped and snatched off the Schnitzer's cap.
For a moment she hesitated, for there was no mud-puddle on the street
into which to throw it. Then she noticed a tree. Good! That would give
him some trouble. She twisted the cap in her hand and tossed it up into
a high branch where it lodged securely.

Then she leaned over the Schnitzer for the last time. He was moaning and
groaning and whimpering with no least little spark of fight left in him.
And was this the thing she used to be afraid of? Danny was right: never
again would she fear him. She gazed at him long and scornfully. Then she
gave him one last stir with her foot and brought the episode to a close.

"Now then, you big bully, if you've had enough, get off this car--I
mean, _sidewalk_, and go home and tell your--your _mother_, I mean, that
she wants you!"

And, as Rosie said that evening in relating the adventure to George
Riley: "And, oh, Jarge, you just ought ha' seen how that stiff got up
and went!"

CHAPTER III

THE PAPER-GIRL

On Saturday night as soon as supper was cleared away, Terence was
accustomed to make out his weekly accounts. He had a small account-book
with crisscross rulings and two fascinating little canvas money-bags,
one for coppers, the other for nickels and silver. After his book
accounts were finished, he would gravely open his money-bags and, with
banker-like precision, pile up together coins of the same
denomination--pennies by themselves, nickels by themselves, dimes, and
so on.

Though oft repeated, it was an impressive performance and one that Rosie
and little Jack surveyed with untiring gravity and respect. With a frown
between his eyes and his lips working silently, Terence would estimate
the totals of the various piles, then the sum total. He would very
deliberately compare this with the amount his book showed and then--it
always happened just this way--with a sigh of relief, he would murmur to
himself: "All right this time!"

On this particular night, instead of sweeping the money piles back into
their little bags at once, Terence paused and looked at Rosie with a
questioning: "Well?"

"Well." Rosie used the same word with a different intonation.

"I suppose I owe you twenty cents."

"Yes, Terry, you do."

"Are you having any trouble?"

With a truthfulness that made her own heart glow with happiness, Rosie
was able to answer: "No, I'm not having a bit of trouble, honest