She was quite surprised at Rosy's way of speaking. She seemed so much
gentler and softer, that Bee could not understand it.

"I'll tell you why I'm so unhappy," said Rosy. "I can't be good, Bee.
I never have cared to be good. It's such a lot of trouble, and lots of
peoples that think they're very good, and that other peoples make a
fuss about, are very pretending. I've noticed that often. But when we
had been talking yesterday morning all of a sudden I thought it would
be nice to be good--not pretending, but _real_ good--never cross,
and all that. And so I fixed I would be quite good, and I thought how
pleased you'd be when I never quarrelled with Colin, or was cross to
Martha, or anything like that. And it was all right for a while; but
then when mamma began talking about Mr. Furniture, and how nice he
was, and his daughter, and you knew all about them and I didn't, it
_all went away_. I told you it would--all the wanting to be
good--and I was as angry as angry. And then I said that, you remember,
and then everybody thought I was just the same, and it was all no
use."

"Poor Rosy," said Bee. "No, I don't think it was no use."

"Oh yes," persisted Rosy, "it was all no use. But nobody knew, and I
didn't mean anybody to know. Mamma and Colin and nobody could see I
was sorry when I said good-night--_could_ they?" she said, with a
tone of satisfaction. "No, I didn't mean anybody to know, only after I
was in bed it came back to me, and I was so vexed and so unhappy. I
thought everybody would have been _so_ surprised at finding I
could be just as good as anybody if I liked. But I don't like; so just
remember, Bee, to-morrow morning I'm not going to try a bit, and it's