“Sure I remember,” said Rose, and laughed again. But she did not make the application expected.
“You didn’t need anyone to lead you then,” Betty reminded her. “Why can’t you find your way to your own room just as well now as you could then?”
Rose’s face lighted up.
“Of course!” she cried. “I never thought. Perhaps I can.” And suddenly she started boldly.
She encountered the center table with some force, but laughed gaily. That gave her the direction and she went thence unerringly into the passage, caught the balustrade, and ran excitedly up the stair and into her own chamber. When Betty reached the room, Rose sat on the bed, half-laughing, half-crying.
“Come,” said Betty, who paused at the dresser. “We must get your hair done and your dress changed.” Rose slipped out of her dressing-gown, followed Betty’s voice to the dresser and released her long, abundant dark brown hair from the tight plait. When she had brushed it out, she tried parting it, and when the parting was pronounced straight, both girls laughed as if it were a game. And when it was braided and tied, there was so much of the old color in Rose’s cheeks that Betty cried out.
“O, Rose, you look so pretty and so natural!” she exclaimed, kissing her. “You look just like old times.”
Rose drew a long, sobbing breath.
“What dress do you want?” Betty asked quickly.
“My blue skirt and middy!” cried Rose eagerly.