"But, Terence lad, what could I do? I thried to dissuade her, but ye know yirself how set she is once she gets an idea into her head."
Yes, Terence and Rosie both knew and they knew, likewise, their mother's helplessness in her hands. With no further words they could easily imagine just what had taken place. Mrs. O'Brien had, no doubt, tried hard to protect Rosie's interests. She could always be depended on to protect the interests of an absent child. Her present attitude was an evidence of this, for now she was turned about seeking to defend Ellen because Ellen was absent.
A wail from upstairs brought her ineffectual excuses to a close and, with a "Whisht! The baby!" she fled.
Rosie, crushed and miserable, wept on. Terence put an awkward hand on her shoulder.
"Say, Rosie, I'm awful sorry, honest I am. I wish I could give you a quarter, but I can't this week. They've cleaned me out. Here's a nickel, though."
Rosie did not want the nickel; at that moment she did not want anything; she took it, however, because Terry wished her to.
"Thanks, Terry. It wasn't your fault. You're not a sneak and a thief. I—I'm glad some of my relations are honest."
Little Jack, who had been listening gravely, snuggled up with a sudden suggestion: "Say, Rosie, if you want me to, I'll kick her in the shins when she comes in."
Rosie wiped her eyes sadly. "No, Jackie, I don't see how that'll do any good."
"Do you want me to spit in her eye?"