Rosy | Page 6

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 Beata, and that her coming
was on purpose to vex _her_, Rosy, as it seemed to her that most things
which she had to do with in the world were. And this was what had put
her in such a temper the first time we saw her--when she would have
liked to put out her vexation on Manchon even, if she had dared!
Rosy's mother felt very disappointed, but she saw it was better to say
no more. She had told Colin about Beata coming, but not Felix, for as
he knew and loved the little girl already, she was afraid that his delight
might rouse Rosy's jealous feelings. For the prettiest thing in Rosy was
her love for her little brother, only it was often spoilt by her
exactingness. Fixie must love her as much or better than anybody--he
must be all hers, or else she would not love him at all. That was how
she sometimes talked to him, and it puzzled and frightened him--he was
such a very little fellow, you see. And mother had never told him that
loving other people too made his love for her less, as Rosy did! I think
Rosy's first dislike to Beata had begun one day when Fixie, wanting to
please her, and yet afraid to say what was not true, had spoken of Beata
as one of the people Rosy must let him love, and it had vexed Rosy so
that ever since he had been afraid to mention his little friend's name to
her.

Rosy's mother thought over what Colin had told her, and settled in her
own mind that it was better to take no notice of it in speaking to Rosy.
"If it had been a quarrel about anything else," she said to herself, "it
would have been different. But about Beata I want to say nothing more
to vex Rosy, or wake her unkind feelings."
But Rosy's mother did not yet quite know her little girl. There was one
thing about her which was not spoilt, and that was her honesty.
When the children came down that morning to see their mother, as they
always did, a little after breakfast, Rosy's face wore a queer look.
"Good morning, little people," said their mother. "I was rather late this
morning, do you know? That was why I didn't come to see you in the
nursery. I am going to write to your aunt to-day. Would you like to put
in a little letter, Rosy?"
"No, thank you," said Rosy.
"Then shall I just send your love? and Fixie's too?" said her mother.
She went on speaking because she noticed the look in Rosy's face, but
she wanted not to seem to do so, thinking Rosy would then gradually
forget about it all.
"I don't want to send my love," said Rosy. "If you say I _must_, I
suppose I must, but I don't want to send it."
"Do you think your love is not worth having, my poor little girl?" said
her mother, smiling a little sadly, as she drew Rosy to her. "Don't you
believe we all love you, Rosy, and want you to love us?"
"I don't know," said Rosy, gloomily. "I don't think anybody can love
me, for Martha's always saying if I do naughty things you won't love
me and father won't love me, and nobody."
"Then why don't you leave off doing naughty things, Rosy?" said her
mother.
"Oh, I can't," Rosy replied, coolly. "I suppose I was spoilt at auntie's,
and now I'm too old to change. I don't care. It isn't my fault: it's
auntie's."
"Rosy," said her mother, gravely, "who ever said so to you? Where did
you ever hear such a thing?"
"Lots of times," Rosy replied. "Martha's said so, and Colin says so
when he's vexed with me. He's always said so," she added, as if she
didn't quite like owning it, but felt that she must. "He