Mrs. O'Brien protested that she hadn't the price of a ten-cent hat, let alone a dress, but Ellen, as usual, was firm, and Rosie knew that she was now destined to go to the picnic prettily costumed. Rosie would have liked to nurse a while longer her indignation against Ellen but, as Ellen was the only person in the house who knew how to trim a hat out of little or nothing and how to whip together a pretty little dress, Rosie was forced to change her manner of open hostility to one of a more friendly reserve. On the whole Rosie was jubilant. "I'm sure I don't know why it is," she said to Janet McFadden, "but people are pretty nice to me, aren't they?" "Nice?" echoed Janet with long-drawn emphasis. "Well, I should think they are!... Say, Rosie, listen:"--Janet paused a moment--"do you think Tom and me and you and Jarge could all go together? Do you think Jarge'd mind?" Rosie considered the request carefully before answering. Then she spoke as kindly as she could: "I'm sure I don't know, Janet. Perhaps he'd like it all right, but, then again, perhaps he wouldn't. Don't you know, men are so queer nowadays. Anyway, though, I tell you what: I'll ask him." "Will you, Rosie?" Janet's gratitude was almost pathetic. Later, in presenting the case to George himself, Rosie's manner lost its air of Lady Bountiful, and she pleaded Janet's cause with an earnestness for which Janet would have worshipped her. "Aw, now, Jarge, please! Poor Janet won't be in our way and she would love to be with us. Tom Sullivan don't talk much and he's got red hair, but he's awful nice, really he is. I told you he was trying to get me a ticket before you invited me. And besides, Jarge, if we get tired of them we can give them the slip for a little while." As soon as Rosie paused for breath, George said: "Of course we'll let Janet and Tom Sullivan come with us if you want them. This is to be your party and you're to have things your own way." Rosie looked her adoration. "Oh, Jarge, you're just too kind to me, really you are!" The new dress was a great success. It was a little rosebud dimity, pink and pale green, which Ellen designed in pretty summer fashion to make the most of Rosie's well-turned little arms and graceful neck. On a ten-cent bargain counter Ellen had found a hat of yellow straw which was just the thing to shape into a little bonnet and trim with a wreath of pink rosebuds and two soft green streamers which hung down on either side. Ellen planned and worked and was happier than Rosie herself over each new effect. Mrs. O'Brien, hovering about, beamed with approval. "Ellen's an artist with her needle," she declared over and over again. "She is indeed. How she does remind me of me own poor dead sister Birdie! There was a milliner in Dublin would have give her two eyes to get Birdie into her shop."