Rosalie had not touched these evidences of an unknown interest in Doda’s life. She stooped, staring upon them, the lifted bundle of clothes in her hand. The stare that took in “Wonderful Old Thing” took in also the first few lines. They were not nice. But she oughtn’t to read it. One didn’t do that kind of thing. She replaced the bundle and closed the box. Then she tidied the room and wiped the mirror.
Early next morning, immediately on coming out of her bath, she went in to Doda. She opened the door softly and she distinctly saw the lids of Doda’s eyes flash up and close again.
“Doda!”
Doda pretended to be asleep. Rosalie had sat up for Doda the previous night but had said nothing to her either of her discovery or of going to an invitation without having told her. Doda wasn’t pretending to be asleep because she feared trouble. She was pretending to be asleep just because she had no wish for an early talk with her mother.
There was a little pang at the heart of Rosalie.
But it was just that the child wasn’t demonstrative of her affections. None of them were. Even Benji not really what you would call demonstrative. How beautiful the child was! Her Doda! How little she ever saw of her!
She called her again.
Doda opened her eyes. “Hullo, mother.”
Just that. No more. They were different, the children.
She sat down on Doda’s bed and began to talk to her. Tidiness! “Doda, your room as you left it last night when you went out was simply terrible. How can you?”