though I don't want you to be troubled about Rosy."

"I do think Rosy wants--" began Bee, and then she stopped, remembering
her promise. "Don't you think she will be sorry now?" she said. "Might
I go and ask her?"

"No, dear, I think you had better not," said Mrs. Vincent. "I will see
her myself in a little while. Yes, I believe she is sorry, but she
won't let herself say so."

Beata felt sad and dull without Rosy; for the last few days had really
passed happily. And Rosy shut up in her own room was thinking with a
sort of bitter vexation rather than sorrow of how quickly her
resolutions had all come to nothing.

"It's not my fault," she kept saying to herself, "it's all Miss
Pink's. She knew I hated sums--that horrid kind of long rows worst of
all--and she just gave me them on purpose; and then when I said I
wouldn't do them, she went on coaxing and talking nonsense--that way
that just _makes_ me naughtier. I'd rather do sums all day than
have her talk like that--and then to go and tell stories to mamma--I
hate her, nasty, pretending thing. It's all her fault; and then she'll
be going on praising Bee, and making everybody think how good Bee is
and how naughty I am. I wish Bee hadn't come. I didn't mind it so much
before. I wonder if _she_ told mamma as she said she would, and
if that was why mamma came in to the schoolroom this morning. I
_wonder_ if Bee could be so mean;" and in this new idea Rosy
almost forgot her other troubles. "If Bee did do it I shall never
forgive her--never," she went on to herself; "I wouldn't have minded
her doing it right out, as she said she would, but to go and tell