“Well, what does that matter?” demanded Mrs Latrobe, sharply. “Can’t they have another? I suppose I come first!”
“Yes, of course, Madam,” said subdued Betty.
Rhoda looked dismayed, but kept silence. She was learning her lesson. Mrs Latrobe looked into the girls’ room, rapidly decided on it, and ordered it to be got ready for her.
“Then which must the young gentlewomen have, Madam?” inquired Betty.
“Oh, any,” said Mrs Latrobe, carelessly. “There are enough.”
“Which would you like, Mrs Rhoda?” incautiously asked Betty.
Before Rhoda could reply, her aunt said quickly,—
“Ask Mrs Phoebe, if you please.”
And Betty remembered that the cousins had changed places. It was a very bitter pill to Rhoda; and it was not like Rhoda to say—yet she said it, as soon as she had the opportunity—
“Phoebe, Aunt Anne means you to choose our room: please don’t have a little stuffy one.”