"Why, Ma, are you crazy! Dad has never laid a finger on you, or on any one else, and you know he hasn't!"
Rosie scanned her mother's face in hope of discovering a little family joke, but Mrs. O'Brien met her gaze with sad, truthful eyes as guileless as a baby's.
"All right, Rosie dear, maybe your poor ma is crazy. But I wonder now ye've never noticed the scar on me right shoulder, nor asked the cause of it."
"What scar?"
"Have you never seen it, Rosie?"
Mrs. O'Brien began unbuttoning her waist to exhibit the scarred shoulder. Then she paused, thought a moment, and changed her mind.
"No. As ye've never noticed it, Rosie, it wouldn't be right of me to show it to you now. The sight of it might make you bitter. But you surprise me that you've never seen it. It's a foot long at least, and two fingers deep, and itches in rainy weather."
"Why, Ma!" Rose's eyes were fixed, and her mouth a round, blank question mark.
"Upon me word of honour, Rosie!"
For a moment Rosie was too shocked to go on. Then she gasped: "How—how did it happen?"