"Well, what about them?" Ellen, at least, was unmoved by the exhibit. "Rosie's not going to be a stenog, is she?" Terence almost choked in fury, but before he could find an answer sufficiently crushing, his father spoke. "See here, Ellen, we've had talk enough. You'll be doing the dishes tonight before you go after the note-book. That ends it." "Very well!" Ellen flounced out of the room, then flounced back. "But if I don't get my certificate next month, you'll know whose fault it is!" "Ain't she the limit?" Terry addressed his inquiry to the gas-jet, and small Jack, taking up the word, called after her: "Ellen, you're the limit! You're the limit!" "Fie on you, Jackie!" Mrs. O'Brien said reprovingly. "You mustn't be talkin' that way to your sister." But Jack, hopping about the kitchen like mad, kept shouting, "You're the limit! You're the limit!" until there was a sudden wail from the front of the house. "Now see what ye've done, ye naughty b'y! Ye've waked up Geraldine!" Jack subsided abruptly and Rosie, with a sigh, stood up. Her mother looked at her compassionately. "Sit where you are, Rosie dear, and rest, and I'll take care of Geraldine." "No, I'll go." Rosie carried the child outside to the little front porch, where she rocked and crooned in the gathering darkness until Geraldine grew quiet. Then she put her to bed and later, at the proper time, gave her a last bottle. After that Rosie's day was done. To be near Geraldine, Rosie was sleeping downstairs for the present, on the floor of the front room. Just as George Riley got home she was ready to retire. "Good-night, everybody," she said. George, looking a little sheepish, called after her: "Aren't you going to kiss me good-night, Rosie?" Without turning back, Rosie made answer: "It's too hot to kiss." Then she told herself grimly: "There, now! I guess that'll jar him! If he thinks he can treat me like a nigger and then kiss me good-night, he's mightily mistaken." She closed the door of the room with a determined click and stood for a moment with her head high. Then she sank to the floor, a very miserable little heap of a girl who sobbed to herself: "But I wish he wasn't so mean to me!" CHAPTER XX A FEVERED WORLD It was a sultry, oppressive night, hard enough for adults to endure and fearfully weakening to teething babies. The next day the heat continued and Geraldine fretted and drooped until Rosie was frantic with anxiety. "Rosie dear, you're all pale and thin," her mother remarked, and Janet McFadden, looking at her affectionately, said: "Now, Rosie, why don't you let me deliver your papers for a couple of days? You're fagged out." "No," Rosie said. "If you'll keep on coming over in the afternoon while I'm away, that's help enough." "But, Rosie, I could do your papers easy enough. I know all your customers."