Rosy

ghest n

ht of a couns

DSWO

te unlike itself; she frowned down with her eyebrows over her two bright eyes, making them seem like two small windows in a house with very overhanging roofs;

hen she had given herself such a lot of trouble to show how vexed

and all that sort of going on caused Rosy a good deal of trouble. So she left off. But she wanted to quarrel with somebody. In fact, she felt that she must quarrel with somebody. She looked round again. The only "somebody" to be seen was mamma's big, big Persian cat, whose name was "Manchon" (why, Rosy did not know; she thought it a very stupid name), of whom, to tell the truth, Rosy was rather afraid. For Manchon could look very grand and terrible when he rear

ion: ROSY

o pull his tail or pinch his ears, as she would rather have liked to do. And Manchon looked up at her sleepily,

n and gave a sort of discontented mew. "I don't care for your faces, and I don't care what mamma says, and I don't care for all the peoples in the world, I won't like her;" and then

ller than Rosy even, was standing in the doorway, looking

"tea's seady. Fix

doesn't want any tea. Rosy's too

lled himself, didn't move. Only the troubl

the room. "Losy," he said again, still more gently than before, "do come to tea

e came over her. She stooped down and threw her

will come if you want her. Fixie never b

keese Fix kite so tight," and he wriggled a little to get out of

little brother away from her, "you don't love Rosy. If

eps were heard coming, and a boy's voice called out, "Fix, Fix, what a time you ar

ing as if to run off to his bro

Take Rosy's hand, dear, and we'll go up to tea togever. Never mind Colin-he's such a big rough boy;" and when Colin, in his turn

anced at them

-strawberry fluff! At least I've been smelling it all the afternoon, and I saw

was doomed to

d and butter on the nursery table, and in answer to th

," insisted Colin. "I heard you yourself sa

nd so it is for you. But I didn't say it

," said Colin. "Fluff won't ke

ittle pot. I don't know anything about the fluff, as y

k. I've always been accustomed, always, to have the fluff sen

was always so, wasn't it?" said Mart

, looking up suddenly, and speaking for the

Colin. "I don't mind. M

nto silence, to

ventured to joke with Rosy-few people who knew her did-but Colin was the most good-natured of childre

me this morning. I was sure Miss Rosy wouldn't like it, and perhaps it's natural, so spoilt as she's been, having everything her own way for so long.

hook h

nt nothing,

matter, Rosy

vvered," s

ave a w

's all about. I know, too, Rosy. You're afraid you

ittle fist, and hit her brother hard with all her baby force, then, without waiting to see if she had hurt him or not, she rushed from the room without speaki

love me like Colin and Pixie. If she did, she wouldn't go and bring a nasty, horrible l

iet after Rosy lef

hat they're doing when they spoil children! Poor Miss R

eless was crying from Rosy's blow, "not muc

her as you do, I can't conceive," said Martha. "If it was only for

her voice sounded almost as if she was going to cry. But Colin was a sensible boy. He kn

a rage for just nothing, and it's always those people somehow that make one wa

about, and that his mother did not wish anything more said of it just yet. So Colin said no more-he just whis

o take Colin and Rosy with them, but Colin, who was already six years old when they left England, had had the good fortune to be sent to a very nice school, while Rosy had stayed altogether with her aunt, who had loved her dearly, but in wishing to make her perfectly happy had made the mistake of letting her have her own way in everything. And when she was eight years old, and her parents came home, full of delight to have their children all together again, the disappointment was great of finding Rosy so unli

for to-morrow morning, or that the bit of garden is quite, quite clear of weeds, and father or mother will be so pleased to see it! But to fall half asleep on the floor, or on your bed, with wearied, swollen eyes, and panting breath and aching head, feeling or fancying that no one loves you-that the world is all wrong, and there is nothing sweet or bright or pretty in it, no place for you, and no use in being alive-all these miserable feelings that are the natural and the right punishment of yielding to evil tempers, forgetting selfi

in very quietly-when was Fixie anything but quiet?-and with a very distressed look on his tiny, white face. Something came over Rosy-a mixture of shame and sor

think it would have awakened her, except that all he did was so very gentle and like a little mouse; and

it was true that she had moved. She had given a sort of wriggle, for, sweet and gentle as Fixie was, she did not at all like being spoken of as not good. She didn't see why he need pray to God to make her good, more than other people, she said to herself, and for half a seco

eeping, Losy, if you are so tired, and Fix

of a sad little dove. And by and by, with going on repeating it so often, his own head began to feel confused and drowsy-it dropped lower and lower, and at last found a resting-place on Rosy's knees. Rosy, who

. But it quickly grew dark and gloomy again as another thought struck her. "If Fixie loves that nasty little girl better than me or as much-if he loves her at all, I'll-I don't k

d a little and whispered

tooping down to listen. His ear

mured, and Rosy's f

er Martha found them