that Rosy came back to the nursery, swinging her hat on her arm, and
looking rather untidy and tired too. "I think I'll go to bed," she
said. "It makes me feel funny in my head, driving so far."

"Let me put away your hat, Miss Rosy," said Martha, "it's getting all
crushed and it's your best one."

"Oh, bother," said Rosy, and the tone was like the Rosy of some months
ago. "What does it matter? _You_ won't have to pay for a new
one."

Martha said nothing, but quietly put away the hat, which had fallen on
the floor. Bee, too, said nothing, but her heart was full. She had
been alone, except for poor little Fixie, all the afternoon; and the
last hour or so she had been patiently waiting for Rosy to come to the
nursery to tell her, as she had promised, all her adventures.

"I'm going to bed," repeated Rosy.

"Won't you stay and talk a little?" said Bee; "you said you would tell
me about Summerlands."

"I'm too tired," said Rosy. Then suddenly she added, sharply, "What
were you doing in my drawers this afternoon?"

"In your drawers?" repeated Bee, half stupidly, as it were. She was
not, as I have told you, very quick in catching up a meaning; she was
thoughtful and clear-headed but rather slow, and when any one spoke
sharply it made her still slower. "In your drawers, Rosy?" she said
again, for, for a moment, she forgot about having fetched the