CHAPTER XXVI
ELLEN
"I don't know what's keepin' poor Ellen," Mrs. O'Brien remarked as the family gathered at supper that evening. "They're awful busy at them down-town offices, I'm thinkin'. Ellen was expectin' to be home at six o'clock sharp but something important must have come in and they need her. Ah, say what you will, a poor girl's got to work mighty hard these days."
"Huh!" grunted Terry.
There was a slam at the front door, at sound of which Mrs. O'Brien's face lighted up. "Ah, there she is now, the poor dear!"
Yes, it was Ellen. She swept at once into the kitchen and stood a moment glowering on the family with all the blackness of a storm-cloud. Then, without a word, she flung herself into a chair.
"Why, Ellen dear," her mother gasped, "what's ailin' you?"
Beyond twitching her shoulders impatiently, Ellen made no answer.
"How do you do, Ellen?" Rosie spoke formally, in the tone of one not at all certain as to how her own civility would be received.
Ellen glanced at her sharply. "Huh! So you're back, are you?"