CHAPTER XXXIX
THE WATCH-DOG
That night at supper, Ellen remarked casually: "Harry's coming to town on Saturday, and if he comes up here, I want you all to treat him nice."
Mrs. O'Brien glanced at Rosie a little nervously. "But, Ellen dear," she asked, "why does he want to be coming up here?"
Ellen smiled on her mother patronisingly. "It looks like he wants to call on me."
Mrs. O'Brien lifted hands in vague protest. "But tell me, now, do you think Jarge——" She hadn't courage to finish her sentence.
Terence looked over to Rosie with a sudden chuckle. "Say, Rosie, wouldn't it be fun if Jarge happened in? Let's drop him a line. Gee! Maybe he wouldn't do a thing to that St. Louis guy!"
"Ma!" Ellen admonished, sharply.
"Terry lad," Mrs. O'Brien began, obediently, "I'm surprised at you talkin' this way about the young gentleman that's coming to see your poor sister Ellen on Saturday night."
Terence pushed away his plate and began writing an imaginary postcard with a spoon. "Dear Jarge," he read slowly; "Won't you please come in on Saturday night? We're arranging a little surprise for Ellen. Yours truly, Terence O'Brien. Gee!" Terry murmured thoughtfully, "I wish he would come! It sure would be worth seeing!"
"Now, Terry," Mrs. O'Brien begged, "promise me you'll do nuthin' so foolish as that! You know yourself the awful temper Jarge has on him, an' if he was to come I'm afeared there'd be something serious. Don't you think, Ellen dear," she went on a little timidly, "that perhaps you'd better tell Mr. Harry not to come this week?"