She hurried off to the upper deck and, of course, found conditions exactly as she knew they would be. The only thing that showed above George's coat collar was the tilted edge of Janet's old black sailor hat. Rosie stepped up quite close to the guilty pair and cleared her throat, but they heeded her not.
"All right!" Rosie warned them in her own mind. "Just keep on and you'll both be sorry some day!"
Then she told herself for the fiftieth time what a fool she had been, and she made a mighty vow never again to loan a gentleman friend to any one whomsoever.
When she got back to Tom Sullivan, Tom had a bag of peanuts which he offered her at once. "You like peanuts, don't you, Rosie? It's my last nickel, except carfare. Aw, go on, take some."
Not to seem unfriendly, Rosie accepted a handful. Crunching the shells between her fingers comforted her a little. It was the sort of treatment she would like to give some people—at any rate, it was the kind they deserved. She didn't exactly name the peanuts, but she gave them initials. To the small ones she gave the initial J, to the large ones G.
"Do you suppose those two are spoonin' up there yet?" Tom asked finally.
"What two?"
"Why, George Riley and Janet." And Tom Sullivan, who was supposed to be bashful, looked at Rosie with a meaning smile.
Rosie returned the glance with fire and daggers. "Don't you move your old chair any closer to me, Tom Sullivan!"
"Aw, now, Rosie——" Tom began, but Rosie cut him short, for the landing-bell was sounding and it was time for them to pick up their disreputable friends.