Part 14 (2/2)

But Rosie was already started and Tom had to follow.

”Say, Rosie,” he chuckled confidentially over her shoulder as she climbed down to the next deck, ”did you see old Janet? Gee! I bet it was the first time a fella ever kissed her!”

Had Rosie seen old Janet? Yes, Rosie had, and the mere thought of the perfidious creature sent Rosie hot and cold by turns. Oh, to think of it! After all she had done for Janet out of the innocent kindness of her heart, to have Janet face about and treat her so! Why, she was nothing but a thief, a brazen thief!...

It was true that, in a sense, George did not belong to Rosie: he belonged to Ellen O'Brien if Ellen would once make up her mind to possess him; but as between Rosie and Janet he certainly belonged to Rosie. And Janet knew it, too! And he knew it! Oh, what a weak character his was, thus to be tempted by the first fair face! Fair face, indeed!

The first ugly face! Yes, ugly! Not even her own mother could call Janet anything else!

Rosie found uncomfortable places for herself and Tom among the wives and mothers who, heavy-eyed and dishevelled, were waiting impatiently to land. s.h.i.+ning over them was no glamour of moonlight. They were plain, homely, hard-worked women--exactly what Janet McFadden would be some day, if George Riley had but sense enough to know it. Rosie picked out the homeliest of them all and wished she had George down beside her so that she could say to him:

”Do you see that woman? Well, that's what your dear Janet's going to look like when she grows up!”

Rosie had a mental picture of herself at that same future period, with golden hair and lovely clothes and heaps and heaps of beautiful jewels.

If she could only give George a glimpse of the great contrast which in a few years there would be between her and Janet, then he'd feel sorry!

He'd probably get down on his knees and beg her pardon and she, flipping back some expensive lace from her wrist, would smile at him kindly and drawl out:

”Oh, that's all right, Mr. Riley. I never think of you any more. You know how it is when a person has so many wealthy friends. I'm sorry, but I got to go now, for my automobile is waiting. Good-bye....”

But meanwhile the moonlight was still s.h.i.+ning on the upper deck and Rosie felt perfectly sure that, by this time, Janet was tucked away in George's coat. Rosie stood the suspense as long as she could, then jumped up to investigate.

”You wait here for me, Tom,” she ordered; ”I'll be back in just a minute.”

She hurried off to the upper deck and, of course, found conditions exactly as she knew they would be. The only thing that showed above George's coat collar was the tilted edge of Janet's old black sailor hat. Rosie stepped up quite close to the guilty pair and cleared her throat, but they heeded her not.

”All right!” Rosie warned them in her own mind. ”Just keep on and you'll both be sorry some day!”

Then she told herself for the fiftieth time what a fool she had been, and she made a mighty vow never again to loan a gentleman friend to any one whomsoever.

When she got back to Tom Sullivan, Tom had a bag of peanuts which he offered her at once. ”You like peanuts, don't you, Rosie? It's my last nickel, except carfare. Aw, go on, take some.”

Not to seem unfriendly, Rosie accepted a handful. Crunching the sh.e.l.ls between her fingers comforted her a little. It was the sort of treatment she would like to give some people--at any rate, it was the kind they deserved. She didn't exactly name the peanuts, but she gave them initials. To the small ones she gave the initial _J_, to the large ones G.

”Do you suppose those two are spoonin' up there yet?” Tom asked finally.

”What two?”

”Why, George Riley and Janet.” And Tom Sullivan, who was supposed to be bashful, looked at Rosie with a meaning smile.

Rosie returned the glance with fire and daggers. ”Don't you move your old chair any closer to me, Tom Sullivan!”

”Aw, now, Rosie----” Tom began, but Rosie cut him short, for the landing-bell was sounding and it was time for them to pick up their disreputable friends.

George and Janet were all for acting as if nothing unusual had happened, and Rosie scorned them afresh for the useless hypocrisy.

The journey home was stupid and unpleasant. The cars were crowded and people were ill-natured and rude and everything in general was horrid.

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