The Rosie World. Fillmore Parker
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Rosie had, but even this did not satisfy Terry.
"Well, anyhow, I bet she's playing crooked somewhere!"
Ellen disdained to answer and Rosie remarked: "I'd rather spend my money on skates than on old curls."
Ellen looked at her kindly. "They say skates are going out of style, Rosie."
Rosie folded her hands complacently. "I don't care whether they're going out or coming in. I don't like 'em because they're fashionable but because I like 'em. If the Boulevard Placers didn't have one pair I'd want to go up there by myself and skate by myself just the same. I love roller skates! And, what's more, by the time vacation comes I'll have the finest pair of ball-bearing skates in town! And vacation, mind you, comes at the end of next week!"
Terence nodded a cautious approval. "You're that close to the finish, are you, Rosie?"
"Sure I am. Tomorrow night when I get paid I'll have two twenty and, by the end of next week, if I can manage to scrape up an extra nickel, I'll have two fifty exact."
Mrs. O'Brien fluttered her hands nervously. "I dunno about all this skatin', Rosie dear. I dunno if it's healthy to jump around so."
Rosie smiled superiorly. "I don't jump around. I know how to skate."
A few moments later Ellen excused herself from her usual evening duties on the plea that her friend, Hattie Graydon, had invited her out. So Rosie had to wipe the supper dishes as well as wash them before she could slip upstairs for the purpose of counting her savings.
She found the wardrobe key in its usual place and the little bank where she had put it, hidden beneath her mother's Sunday hat. She reached for it and lifted it up and then, with a loud cry, she clutched it hard and shook it with all her might.
"Ma! Ma!" she screamed, flying wildly downstairs. "My money! Some one's taken all my money!"
"Ssh!" Mrs. O'Brien implored. "Ye'll be wakin' Geraldine!"
For once Rosie heeded not the warning. "I tell you my money's gone! Some one stole it! Listen here!" She was weeping distractedly and waving the empty bank aloft. "There's not a cent left! And, Terry, look here how they took it!"
The thief had not even had the grace to use a hairpin, but had calmly bent back the opening slit.
Terence looked at his mother sternly. "Ma, who took Rosie's money?"
Mrs. O'Brien squirmed uncomfortably. "Now, Terry lad, how do I know who took it? But I do know this: whoever it was that took it only borrowed it and Rosie'll get paid back."
"Paid back!" wept Rosie. "Don't talk to me about getting paid back in this house! I guess I know!"
With a determined eye Terence held his mother's wavering attention. "Now, Ma, you know very well who took that money and I want you to tell me."
"Why, Terry lad, how you talk!" Mrs. O'Brien turned her head to listen, in hopes, apparently, that the baby would require her presence. "But I will say one thing, Terry: Ye know yirself a young girl, if she goes out, has to keep up appearances."
Terence nodded grimly. "So it was Ellen, was it? I thought so."
"Ellen," Rosie repeated in a dazed tone. Then her body grew tense, her eyes blazed. "Terry, I know! Those curls! I bet anything it was those curls!"
Mrs. O'Brien made no denial and Rosie, dropping her head on the table, wept her heart out.
"Terry, Terry, what do you know about that! And after the way I been working hard and saving every cent for two whole months! Just think of it! And you know yourself the fuss she always made about my selling papers at all! It's disgraceful for me to sell papers because I'm a girl, but it ain't disgraceful for her to go steal all my money and buy curls!.. And I can't do nuthin'! If she was a nigger, I could have her arrested but, because she's my own sister, I can't do nuthin'! Oh, how I hate her, how I hate her!.."
Mrs. O'Brien sighed unhappily. "But, Rosie dear, Ellen'll be paying you back as soon as she gets a job. She promised me faithfully she would. You see, she'll soon be going around to them offices now and she feels she ought to be lookin' her best. Oh, you'll be gettin' back your money all right! Why, nowadays a good stenog gets ten dollars a week up!"
Terence cut his mother off sharply. "Aw, forget it! You can't fool Rosie with guff like that! I tell you, Ellen's nuthin' but a low-down crook and it's your fault, too, for encouraging her!"
"But, Terence lad, what could I do? I thried to dissuade her, but ye know yirself how set she is once she gets an idea into her head."
Yes, Terence and Rosie both knew and they knew, likewise, their mother's helplessness in her hands. With no further words they could easily imagine just what had taken place. Mrs. O'Brien had, no doubt, tried hard to protect Rosie's interests. She could always be depended on to protect the interests of an absent child. Her present attitude was an evidence of this, for now she was turned about seeking to defend Ellen because Ellen was absent.
A wail from upstairs brought her ineffectual excuses to a close and, with a "Whisht! The baby!" she fled.
Rosie, crushed and miserable, wept on. Terence put an awkward hand on her shoulder.
"Say, Rosie, I'm awful sorry, honest I am. I wish I could give you a quarter, but I can't this week. They've cleaned me out. Here's a nickel, though."
Rosie did not want the nickel; at that moment she did not want anything; she took it, however, because Terry wished her to.
"Thanks, Terry. It wasn't your fault. You're not a sneak and a thief. I – I'm glad some of my relations are honest."
Little Jack, who had been listening gravely, snuggled up with a sudden suggestion: "Say, Rosie, if you want me to, I'll kick her in the shins when she comes in."
Rosie wiped her eyes sadly. "No, Jackie, I don't see how that'll do any good."
"Do you want me to spit in her eye?"
Rosie gave Jack a tight hug, for his sympathy was sweet. Then she shook her head reprovingly. "You mustn't talk like that, Jackie, and you mustn't do things like that, either. You don't want to be a mucker, do you?"
For this once Jack thought that perhaps he did, but, when Rosie insisted, he promised to behave.
From babyhood he had been Rosie's special charge, so now, when the time came, she took him upstairs and saw him safely to bed. Then she herself slipped down to the front porch and there on the steps, in the dark electric shadow, she waited for her friend, George Riley.
CHAPTER V
GEORGE RILEY ON MUCKERS
Rosie had not long to wait, as George's run ended at nine o'clock.
"Sst! Jarge!" she called softly as he bounded up the steps and would have passed her in the dark.
"Is that you, Rosie?"
"Sit down a minute, Jarge. I want to ask you something."
George mopped his head with his handkerchief and drew a long breath. "Whew, but I'm tired, Rosie! I rang up over seventy-five fares three times tonight."
Rosie opened with no preliminary remarks. "Say, Jarge, can you lend me twenty-five cents until tomorrow night? You know I get paid tomorrow."
"Sure, Rosie. What for?"
"I want to go to the Dog Show matinée."
George paused a moment. "But, Rosie, you don't need twenty-five cents for that. You told me it was ten cents."
"I know, Jarge, but I want to take Jackie and Janet."
"Why, Rosie!"
"Well, if I don't, poor Janet'll never get there. She never gets anywhere. You know her father boozes every cent. And I just got to take Jackie if I go myself. Besides, he'll only cost me five cents and that will let me use the nickel Terry gave me for peanuts."
"But, Rosie," – George cleared his throat – "I thought you were saving every penny. You know you can't save and spend at the same time."
"I'm not saving any more." Rosie spoke quietly, evenly.
"Not