“What do yous want?” she inquired in a tone that was anything but hospitable.
“We want,” began Dulcie, with a mighty effort to control her shaking voice, “that is, we came with Rosy. We thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling us some things about her. There seems to be so much she can’t remember.”
“What’s Rosy been up to?” inquired Mrs. Finnegan, fixing a stern eye upon her small daughter. “She ain’t took nothin’ from yous, has she?”
“Oh, no indeed,” cried Dulcie, indignantly. “I’m sure she’s a very good little girl, but you see, we’ve been interested in her for a long time, on account of her blue eyes and golden hair, and this afternoon we spoke to her. She told us about being in the hospital, and about your not knowing just how old she is, and that made us pretty sure she must have been stolen when she was a baby, and——”
“Shtolen, is it?” screamed Rosy’s mother, her eyes beginning to flash ominously, “and who shtole her, I’d like to be askin’?”
“I don’t know—oh, please don’t be angry,” pleaded Dulcie, involuntarily moving a step nearer to the closed door. “We didn’t mean you did it, only—only we thought you might know something about it, and be able to give us a clue. We want to find her real mother, you know.”
“What are ye talkin’ about, anyway?” demanded Mrs. Finnegan, whose temper was evidently not of the sweetest. “I never heard such crazy talk in me loife. Nobody shtole my Rosy. I guess it’s shtealin’ you’ve been yourselves, to get them good clothes you’ve got on. I’ll be callin’ the cop to yous, that’s what I’ll be doin’, if yous don’t get out of here moighty quick.”
This was too much for Molly, and with a shriek of terror she made for the door. Even Dulcie quailed before this awful threat, but not so Paul. His usually pale face had grown suddenly crimson, and before any one realized his intention, he had placed himself firmly in front of the angry Mrs. Finnegan.
“You mustn’t talk in that way,” he said, and his voice was very loud and clear. “It’s very rude to insult people in your own house. We’re not the kind of people who steal. We live on Washington Square, and we only came here because we wanted to find out about Rosy. We don’t know that she was stolen, but we thought she might have been, and she wanted us to come, didn’t you, Rosy?”
Thus appealed to, Rosy, who had been watching proceedings with deep interest, opened her lips for the first time since reaching home.