"_Much_ better. We're hoping to come back to settle in England
before long, and have a nice house like yours, and then you are all to
come to see us," said Mr. Furnivale.

They went on talking for a few minutes about these pleasant plans, and
in the interest of hearing about Cecilia Furnivale, and hearing all
her messages, Rosy, who had never seen her, and who was quite a
stranger to her father too, was naturally left a little in the
background. It was quite enough to put her out again.

"I might just as well have been left upstairs in my own room," she
said to herself. "Nobody notices me--nobody cares whether I am here or
not. _I_ won't go to stay with that ugly old man and his stupid
daughter, just to be always put behind Bee."

And when Beata, with a slight feeling that Rosy might be feeling
herself neglected, and full of pleasure, too, at Mrs. Vincent's having
forgiven her, slipped behind the others and took Rosy's hand in hers,
saying brightly, "_Won't_ it be nice to go and stay with them,
Rosy?" Rosy pulled away her hand roughly, and, looking very cross,
went back to her old cry.

"I wish you'd leave me alone, Bee. I hate that sort of pretending. You
know quite well nobody would care whether _I_ went or not."

And poor Bee drew back quite distressed, and puzzled again by Rosy's
changeableness.