"But, Janet dear, how about your father?"
"Oh, I suppose he'll come in soused as usual. But you won't be bothered. I'll get him off to bed before you come and he'll be safe till morning. Please say you'll come, Rosie. I need you, honest I do."
That was true: Janet did need her. George Riley would have to wait.
"All right, Janet. I'll come."
"Thanks, Rosie. I knew you would." Janet paused. "And, Rosie, do you think you could lend me a quarter? I've got to have some money for breakfast. Mother had a dollar in her pocket but I forgot about it at the hospital."
"I haven't a cent, Janet, but I'll raise a quarter somewhere, from Terry or from dad, and I'll bring it with me tonight."
Janet stood up to go. "Come about eight o'clock, Rosie."
Rosie looked at her friend compassionately. "Why don't you stay here for supper?"
Janet shook her head. "I'd like to but I don't think I'd better. He probably won't come home, but he might come and I better be on hand."
Janet started off slowly and reluctantly. Twice she turned back a face so woebegone and desolate that it went to Rosie's heart and, after a few moments, sent her flying for comfort to her mother's ample bosom.