Rosy | Page 8

sure to be pretty," thought Rosy. "I daresay she'll have beautiful black hair, and blue eyes like Lady Albertine." Albertine was Rosy's best doll. "And I daresay she'll be very clever, and play the piano and speak French far better than me. I don't mind that. I like pretty people, and I don't mind people being clever. What I don't like is, people who are dedfully good always going on about how good they are, and how naughty other people is. If she doesn't do that way I shan't mind so much, but I'm sure she will do that way. Yes, Manchon," she said aloud, "I'm sure she will, and you needn't begin 'froo'in' about it."
For Rosy was in the drawing-room when all these thoughts were passing through her mind--she was there with her afternoon frock on, and a pretty muslin apron, all nice to meet Beata and her uncle, who were expected very soon. And Manchon was on the rug as usual, quite peacefully inclined, poor thing, only Rosy could never believe any good of Manchon, and when he purred, or, as she called it, "froo'ed," she at once thought he was mocking her. She really seemed to fancy the cat was a fairy or a wizard of some kind, for she often gave him the credit of reading her very thoughts!
The door opened, and her mother came in, leading Fixie by the hand and Colin just behind.
"Oh, you're ready, Rosy," she said. "That's right. They should be here very soon."
"Welly soon," repeated Fixie. "Oh, Fixie will be so glad to see Beenie again!"
"What a stupid name," said Rosy. "_We_'re not to call her that, are we, mother?"
She spoke in rather a grand, grown-up tone, but her mother knew she put that on sometimes when she was not really feeling unkind.
"I shall call her Bee," said Colin. "It would do very well, as we've"--he stopped suddenly--"as we've got a wasp already," he had been going to say--it seemed to come so naturally--when his mother's warning came back to his mind. He caught her eye, and he saw that she couldn't help smiling and he found it so difficult not to burst out laughing that he stuffed his pocket-handkerchief into his mouth, and went to the window, where he pretended to see something very interesting. Rosy looked up suspiciously.
"What were you going to say, Colin?" she asked. "I'm sure--" but she too stopped, for just then wheels were heard on the gravel drive outside.
"Here they are," said mother. "Will you come to the door to welcome Beata, Rosy?"
Rosy came forward, though rather slowly. Colin was already out in the hall, and Fixie was dancing along beside his mother. Rosy kept behind. The carriage, that had gone to the station to meet the travellers, was already at the door, and the footman was handing out one or two umbrellas, rugs, and so on. Then a gray-haired gentleman, whom Rosy, peeping through a side window, did not waste her attention on--"He is quite old," she said to herself--got out, and lifted down a much smaller person--smaller than Rosy herself, and a good deal smaller than the Beata of Rosy's fancies. The little person sprang forward, and was going to kiss Rosy's mother, when she caught sight of the tiny white face beside her.
"O Fixie, dear little Fixie!" she said, stooping to hug him, and then she lifted her own face for Fixie's mother to kiss. At once, almost before shaking hands with the gentleman, Rosy's mother looked round for her, and Rosy had to come forward.
"Beata, dear, this is my Rosy," she said; and something in the tone of the "my" touched Rosy. It seemed to say, "I will put no one before you, my own little girl--no stranger, however sweet--and you will, on your side, try to please me, will you not?" So Rosy's face, though grave, had a nice look the first time Beata saw it, and the first words she said as they kissed each other were, "O Rosy, how pretty you are! I shall love you very much."

CHAPTER III
.
TEARS.
"'Twere most ungrateful."--V. S. LAKDOH.
Beata was not pretty. That was the first thing Rosy decided about her. She was small, and rather brown and thin. She had dark hair, certainly like Lady Albertine's in colour, but instead of splendid curls it was cut quite short--as short almost as Colin's--and her eyes were neither very large nor very blue. They were nice gray eyes, that could look sad, but generally looked merry, and about the rest of her face there was nothing very particular.
Rosy looked at her for a moment or two, and she looked at Rosy. Then at last Rosy said,
"Will you come into the drawing-room?" for she saw that her mother and Beata's uncle were already on their way