Rosie put her arms about George's neck and covered his cheek with tears and kisses. Then suddenly she paused. "But, Jarge, I don't know whether I can go! What about my papers?" George laughed. "Aw, let the papers go blow! Anyway, can't Janet McFadden take them?" Rosie appealed to Terry. "Can she, Terry?" Terry nodded. "Sure she can. Don't you worry about those papers. Me and Janet'll get on all right. You take Geraldine and skip off and stay away as long as Mis' Riley wants you." George spread out his hands. "So you see, Rosie, everything's arranged. You're to start tomorrow on the eleven----" "But, Jarge, wait a minute! We can't start tomorrow 'cause our things aren't ready. A whole lot of Geraldine's clothes and mine, too, got to be washed." "Can't you take 'em with you and wash 'em in the country?" "Oh, Jarge!" The suggestion was evidently a horrible one, for Mrs. O'Brien and Rosie spoke together. George looked troubled. "But, Rosie, you got to start tomorrow. Didn't I tell you that dad and Billy are going to drive down to meet you?" Mrs. O'Brien stood up. "Make your mind easy, Jarge. Rosie'll be ready on time. I'll go in this minute and do that washin' now, and the things'll be all dry and ready for ironin' by early mornin'." Rosie gasped. "Why, Ma, it's going on ten o'clock!" "Rosie dear, I don't care what o'clock it's going on. If it's the last mortal thing I ever do for you, I'm going to do that washin' tonight, for, if I do say it, ye're the best child that ever trod shoe-leather." Jamie O'Brien's tilted chair came down on the porch floor with a thud, while Jamie remarked solemnly: "You're right, Maggie; she is!" Mrs. O'Brien moved toward the door. "Come on, Rosie dear, and help me gather the things." Rosie started up, then paused to glance from one to another of them. In the soft glow of the summer night she could see that they were all looking at her with the same expression of love and tenderness. Rosie choked. "I don't see why--everybody's--so kind--to me!" She turned back to George. "And I've been just horrible to you, Jarge! You'll forgive me, won't you? I guess it was the weather." "Aw, go on!" George spoke with a gruffness that deceived nobody. "I guess it's been the weather with all of us!" CHAPTER XXIII HOME AGAIN George Riley protested vigorously: "But I tell you she's only a little girl and she's got a baby and a big basket and I don't know how many other things and some one's just got to help her!" With anxious headshakes Terence and Janet McFadden corroborated all George Riley said, but the gatekeeper was firm. "Only passengers this side the fence," he repeated.