"Sure, Rosie. You see Aunt Kitty'll ask him all about things and he'll tell about you and how pretty you looked and about Jarge Riley, and then Aunt Kitty'll begin making fun of me and that'll make Tom mad and he'll tell Aunt Kitty not to be so sure, and then she'll see he's holding back something and she'll tease until she gets it out of him.... Oh, Rosie, I tell you I know her just as well! I can just hear her! And when Tom tells her how mad you are, that'll make her believe the rest.... But honestly, Rosie, I didn't know you was mad till Tom told me." "Tom!" Rosie was indignant at once. "Do you mean to say Tom Sullivan told you I was mad? Well, the next time you see Tom Sullivan you tell him for me to mind his own business!" Rosie paused a moment, then drew Janet closer to her. "Mad? What's eating Tom Sullivan? Friends like you and me, Janet, don't get _mad_!" And Janet McFadden, shaking her head in horror that any one should even suggest such a thing, declared emphatically: "Of course not!" CHAPTER XIV ON SCARS AND BRUISES A few mornings later Rosie was seated on the front steps, shelling peas, when Janet passed the gate. "Aren't you coming in?" Rosie called out. At first Janet was not, but on Rosie's second invitation she changed her mind. As she reached the steps, Rosie discovered the reason of her hesitation. She had a black eye. She carried it consciously, but with such dignity, as it were, that Rosie could not at once decide whether Janet expected her to speak of it, or to accept it without comment. Janet herself, after an introductory remark about the weather, broached the subject. "What do you think about the eye I've got on me? Ain't it a beaut?" It certainly was, and Rosie expressed emphatic appreciation. "And how do you suppose I got it?" Janet pursued. "I couldn't guess if I had to!" Rosie's answer was tactful, rather than truthful. In her own mind she had very little doubt whence the black eye had come. But it would never do to say that she supposed it had been given Janet by her father during one of the drunken rages to which he was subject. With one's dearest friend one may be frank almost to brutality, but not on the subject of that friend's family. There are reserves that even friendship may not penetrate. So, with an exaggeration of guilelessness, Rosie declared: "I couldn't guess if I had to! Honest I couldn't!" Janet had her story ready: "You know how dark the halls in our building are. Well, I was just going downstairs, when a boy sneaked up behind me, and pushed me, and I slipped, and hit my face against the banister. And I think I know who it was, too!"