"Indeed I do," protested Claire, her eyes filling with tears. "I never have trusted any girl so much."
"Then that is all right," said Rosanna, with her sweet smile. "I just want you to promise me one thing and that is that if ever you feel as though you wanted to tell anyone, or if you feel as though anyone could help you, I want you to come to me."
"I will indeed promise that," said Claire, "but I do not think that that time will ever come. I want to tell you, but I cannot. And no one on earth can help me."
"I don't believe I would say that, Claire," said Rosanna musingly. "You never can tell just who can help you until the time comes when you need help, and then there it is, just as though you had called for it."
"I shall not call," smiled Claire stubbornly. "And please, Rosanna, let us talk of other things."
Rosanna brightly changed the conversation.
"What I am crazy to talk about is, whatever is it you are putting on?"
"This?" asked Claire, holding out a fold of the gorgeous embroidered garment she had slipped on. "It is a Mandarin coat; a real one. A real Mandarin gave it to me. I was quite a little girl. It was while daddy was stationed in China, and he and mother had a great many friends among the really high-class Chinese.
"When we came away, the Mandarin sent a box by a half-dozen bearers. It was a sort of chest with trays. There was a wonderful robe for mother made of silk as shimmery and delicate as a cobweb. It is crusted with gold embroidery and there are tiny shoes to match. Then there was a set of real jade—hair ornaments, a necklace, pins, and this ring."
"I have noticed it," said Rosanna. "It is too lovely! And it is lovely of your mother to let you wear it until she gets well."