His mother gazed on him offended and hurt. "Since you're such a wise young man, Mister Terence O'Brien, perhaps you'll be telling us how much you know about it, yourself."
Terry's answer was prompt: "Not a blamed thing! But I tell you what I do know: I know Ellen, and you can take it from me she's a frost."
Rosie sighed plaintively. "But where does Jarge come in? What's the matter with Jarge."
Terence answered her shortly: "Oh, nuthin'. Ellen only played him one of her little tricks last week and he's mad."
"And I must say," Mrs. O'Brien supplemented, "Jarge does surprise me the way he keeps it up. After all, Ellen's only a young girl and he ought to remember that every young girl makes a mistake now and then."
"What mistake did she make this time?" Rosie spoke as quietly as she could.
"It's a long story," her mother said. "Since you've been gone she met a fella named Finn, Larry Finn, and we all thought him very nice, he was that polite with his hair always brushed and shiny and smooth. He had a good job downtown——"
"You know his kind, Rosie," Terry interposed; "a five dollar a week book-keep—silk socks but no undershirt. Oh, he was a great sport! Ellen was crazy about him."
"Terence O'Brien, have ye no manners to be takin' the words out of yir own mother's mouth! Now hold yir tongue while I explain to Rosie." Terence subsided and Mrs. O'Brien started in afresh: "Well, as I was saying, this Finn fella took a great fancy to Ellen and was coming around every night to see her. He took her to the movies and gave her ice-cream sodas and they were getting on fine. Then last week he was going to take her to the Twirler Club's Annual Ball."
"The Twirlers' Ball!" Rosie looked at her mother questioningly.