Dotty had been allowed to choose her own room from two that her mother designated. One was on the side of the house that faced the Fayres', the other wasn't. Dotty hesitated between them. She went in one and then the other.
"If I should like that prim-faced thing," she said to her Aunt Clara, "I'd rather have this room, that looks toward their house. But if I don't like her,—and I'm just about sure I won't,—I'd rather have my room on the other side."
"Oh, you'll like her, after you know her," said Aunt Clara, carelessly. "But don't mind that, take the room you think pleasanter."
So Dotty considered them both again. The room not facing the Fayres' was without doubt the more attractive of the two, though not much so. It had a large bay window, which was delightful; but then on the other hand the other room had an open fireplace, and Dotty loved a wood fire.
She stood in the room with the fireplace, looking toward the next house. It was Saturday afternoon, and as she watched she saw the yellow-haired girl and two ladies come out and get in a motor car.
"I don't like her!" Dotty declared again, though as there was no one else present, she talked to herself. "She walks like a prig, she gets in the car like a prig and she sits down on the seat like a prig! I don't like her, and I'm going to take the other room!"
So, when her own furniture arrived it was put in the room with the bay window and which did not overlook the Fayre house. The house that she could see from her newly chosen room, was so hemmed in by trees as to be almost invisible.
Dotty spent a pleasant afternoon, after her furniture was in place, arranging her little trinkets and pictures, and putting away things in her cupboards and bureau drawers.
But every little while some errand seemed to call her across the hall, and she couldn't help looking out to see if "that girl" had returned yet.
The next day was Sunday, and Mr. Rose was at home.