Rosie kept her promise faithfully. During the week that elapsed before Ellen's departure, she was careful not to mention George Riley's name. The time for discussion of any subject that might prove unpleasant to Ellen was past. Ellen was going, never to return--at any rate, never as one of them in the sense that she had been one of them and, for their own sakes as well as for hers, it behooved them all to make those last days as frictionless as possible. The approaching separation did not bring Rosie any closer to Ellen nor Ellen any closer to her, but it made them both strangely considerate of one another and also a little shy. Like Rosie, Terence and Jack regarded Ellen's going with deep interest but with very little feeling. Between them and her there had always been war and there probably always would be if they continued to live under the same roof. They had their mother's word for it that Ellen was their own sister and that they ought to love her, but they did not for that reason love her nor did she love them. Yet they did not question that pretty fallacy which their mother offered them as an axiom, namely, that love is the inevitable bond between brothers and sisters, since boys and girls, like men and women, have a way of keeping separate the truths of experience and the forms of inherited belief. With Rosie they instinctively called a truce. Ellen will soon be gone, their attitude said, so let's not fight any more. To show their sincerity, Terry polished Ellen's shoes and asked if there was anything more he could do, and Jack ran numberless errands without once asking payment. Mrs. O'Brien more than made up for the indifference of the rest of the family. Her grief at Ellen's departure was very genuine and very loud. Ellen had always seemed to her mother a paragon of beauty and talent and now she had made a fine match and was going off to St. Louie, poor girl, where she'd be far away from her own people in case of illness or distress. Mrs. O'Brien was so nearly overcome at the actual moment of farewell that Jamie and Terry had to drag her off to a soda fountain before the train was fairly started. Ellen, too, was affected at the last as Rosie had never seen her affected. She kissed Rosie, then looked at her a moment sadly. "Say, kid," she said, "I'm sorry we haven't been better friends. I'm afraid it was my fault." Rosie gulped. "I was as much to blame as you. I see it now." Ellen touched Rosie's cheek impulsively. "If ever I get a home of my own in St. Louie, will you come and make me a visit?" Rosie's thought was: "If ever you get a home of your own, you'll never remember me." Her spoken answer, though, was all that it should be: "Ellen, I'd love to."