Lady Betty was not exerting herself very much, in spite of Rosa’s predicament. There had been the tiring drive, as Uncle Frederic had explained, and there was the sea-going voyage to-morrow—as everybody knew.
And Nancy was glad they were going away. Rosa had been positively rebellious ever since the pretty Betty had come into her room. Was it sheer nervousness? Nancy wondered. How perfectly silly for Rosa to keep sticking that bandaged foot outside the lace-edged sheet. And how absurd for her to keep using such senseless slang! Calling it a “busted foot” and insisting that she was “laid up for repairs”—it sounded like pure affectation to Nancy, who, while being no prude, was not a rebel, either.
CHAPTER VIII
ROSALIND’S SORROWS
During the half hour that Lady Betty favored them with her presence, no mention was made of Orilla. It was all a jumbling talk of what to get Rosa in Europe, and what Rosa should do while they were away.
“You see, Nancy dear,” said Mrs. Betty. “I left my little pet Pompsie—”
“Her dog,” interrupted Rosa.
“Rosa-linda!” exclaimed her father, rebukingly.
“Well, how would Nancy know—”
“I left my little dog with my sister, because Rosa might forget and lock him out on the roof some night. He adores to play on the roof—”