"Well, what about them?" Ellen, at least, was unmoved by the exhibit. "Rosie's not going to be a stenog, is she?"
Terence almost choked in fury, but before he could find an answer sufficiently crushing, his father spoke.
"See here, Ellen, we've had talk enough. You'll be doing the dishes tonight before you go after the note-book. That ends it."
"Very well!" Ellen flounced out of the room, then flounced back. "But if I don't get my certificate next month, you'll know whose fault it is!"
"Ain't she the limit?" Terry addressed his inquiry to the gas-jet, and small Jack, taking up the word, called after her: "Ellen, you're the limit! You're the limit!"
"Fie on you, Jackie!" Mrs. O'Brien said reprovingly. "You mustn't be talkin' that way to your sister."
But Jack, hopping about the kitchen like mad, kept shouting, "You're the limit! You're the limit!" until there was a sudden wail from the front of the house.
"Now see what ye've done, ye naughty b'y! Ye've waked up Geraldine!"
Jack subsided abruptly and Rosie, with a sigh, stood up.
Her mother looked at her compassionately. "Sit where you are, Rosie dear, and rest, and I'll take care of Geraldine."