“Help yourself!” said Betty in a funny voice, and they laughed again.
Rose found the skirt in the clothespress and the blouse in a drawer of the chest. When she was dressed, Betty declared the transformation was complete. Rose was feeling in the top drawer of the dresser for a scarlet tie when the girls were startled by an agonized wail from below.
“Rose! Rose! Rosy darling!” cried Mrs. Harrow beseechingly; and before the startled girls could find voice, “Betty Pogany! what has happened? Where is Rose?”
“Hoo-hoo! here we are, mama, up here in my chamber!” Rose sang out in a gay voice Mrs. Harrow had not heard in six months and never expected to hear again. Flying upstairs, she stood on the threshold of the chamber white and breathless.
She stared at that familiar, beloved figure standing adjusting a tie before the mirror as if she believed she was in a dream—her expression made it a nightmare. Then she turned questioningly to Betty. She couldn’t speak; but she looked as one might who has entrusted an infant to another and found him standing it on its feet and urging it to walk.
“Betty’s going to take me out for a little walk, mama,” said Rose demurely. She looked so sparkling and lively, so like the girl she had been before that terrible illness, that her mother felt as if her heart were breaking.
“My darling, I couldn’t let you do that,” she gasped. “And O, Rosy, do sit down.”
Going to the girl, she forced her gently into a padded rocker she had placed in her chamber since her illness.
“You’re not strong enough to walk,” she added, “and, O, something might happen! I should worry every second. Your papa’ll be here very soon now, and if you’ll both promise to be very quiet, I’ll get him to take Betty along, too.”
“But Betty doesn’t want to ride, and neither do I,” Rose rejoined. “I’m dead sick of it, so there!”