"That's right," he answered, encouragingly. And then Rosy's mother
again held out her hand, and Beata took it timidly, and followed by
Rosy, whose mind was in a strange jumble, they went upstairs to the
room that was to be the little stranger's.

It was as pretty a little room as any child could have wished
for--bright and neat and comfortable, with a pleasant look-out on the
lawn at the side of the house, while farther off, over the trees, the
village church, or rather its high spire, could be seen. For a moment
Beata forgot her new troubles.

"Oh, how pretty!" she said, "Is this to be my room? I never had such a
nice one. But when they come home from India for always, papa and
mamma are going to get a pretty house, and choose all the
furniture--like here, you know, only not so pretty, I daresay, for a
house like this would cost such a great deal of money."

She was chattering away to Rosy's mother quite in her old way, greatly
to Rosy's mother's pleasure, when she--Mrs. Vincent, opened a door
Beata had not before noticed.

"This is Rosy's room," she said. "I thought it would be nice for you
to be near each other. And I know you are very tidy, Bee, so you will
set Rosy a good example--eh, Rosy?"

She said it quite simply, and Beata would have taken it in the same
way half an hour before, but looking round the little girl caught an
expression on Rosy's face which brought back all her distress. It
seemed to say, "Oh, you're beginning to be praised already, I see,"
but Rosy's mother had not noticed it, for Rosy had turned quickly