Rosy | Page 5

better than me or as much--if he loves her _at all_, I'll--I don't know what I'll do. I'd almost hate him, and I'm sure I'll hate her, any way. Mamma says she's such a dear good little girl--that means that everybody'll say _I'm_ naughtier than ever."
But just then Fixie moved a little and whispered something in his sleep.
"What is it, Fix?" said Rosy, stooping down to listen. His ears caught the sound of her voice.
"Poor Losy," he murmured, and Rosy's face softened again.
And half an hour later Martha found them lying there together.

CHAPTER II
.
BEATA.
"How will she be--fair-haired or dark, Eyes bright and piercing, or rather soft and sweet? --All that I care not for, so she be no phraser." --OLD PLAY.
"What was it all about?" said Rosy's mother the next morning to Colin, She had heard of another nursery disturbance the evening before, and Martha had begged her to ask Colin to tell her all about it. "And what's the matter with your eye, my boy?" she went on to say, as she caught sight of the bluish bruise, which showed more by daylight.
"Oh, that's nothing," said Colin. "It doesn't hurt a bit, mother, it doesn't indeed. I've had far worse lumps than that at school hundreds of times. It's nothing, only--" and Colin gave a sort of wriggle.
"Only what?" said his mother.
"I do so wish Rosy wouldn't be like that. It spoils everything. Just this Easter holiday time too, when I thought we'd be so happy."
His mother's face grew still graver.
"Do you mean that it was Rosy that struck you--that hit you in the eye?" she said.
Colin looked vexed. "I thought Martha had told you," he said. "And I teased her, mother. I told her she was afraid of having her nose put out of joint when Be--I can't say her name--when the little girl comes."
"O Colin, how could you?" said his mother sadly. "When I had explained to you about Beata coming, and that I hoped it might do Rosy good! I thought you would have tried to help me, Colin."
Colin felt very vexed with himself.
"I won't do it any more, mother, I won't indeed," he said. "I wish I could leave off teasing; but at school, you know, one gets into the way, and one has to learn not to mind it."
"Yes," said his mother, "I know, and it is a very good thing to learn not to mind it. But I don't think teasing will do Rosy any good just now, especially not about little Beata."
"Mother," said Colin.
"Well, my boy," said his mother.
"I wish she hadn't such a stupid name. It's so hard to say."
"I think they sometimes have called her Bee," said his mother; "I daresay you can call her so."
"Yes, that would be much better," said Colin, in a more contented tone.
"Only," said his mother again, and she couldn't help smiling a little when she said it, "if you call her 'Bee,' don't make it the beginning of any new teasing by calling Rosy 'Wasp.'"
"Mother!" said Colin. "I daresay I would never have thought of it. But I promise you I won't."
This was what had upset Rosy so terribly--the coming of little Beata. She--Beata--was the child of friends of Rosy's parents. They had been much together in India, and had returned to England at the same time. So Beata was already well known to Rosy's mother, and Fixie, too, had learnt to look upon her almost as a sister. Beata's father and mother were obliged to go back to India, and it had been settled that their little girl was to be left at home with her grandmother. But just a short time before they were to leave, her grandmother had a bad illness, and it was found she would not be well enough to take charge of the child. And in the puzzle about what they should do with her, it had struck her father and mother that perhaps their friends, Rosy's parents, might be able to help them, and they had written to ask them; and so it had come about that little Beata was to come to live with them. It had all seemed so natural and nice. Rosy's mother was so pleased about it, for she thought it would be just what Rosy needed to make her a pleasanter and more reasonable little girl.
"Beata is such a nice child," she said to Rosy's father when they were talking about it, "and not one bit spoilt. I think it is sure to do Rosy good," and, full of pleasure in the idea, she told Rosy about it.
But--one man may bring a horse to the water, but twenty can't make him drink, says the old proverb--Rosy made up her mind on the spot, at the very first instant, that she wouldn't like