Nancy felt too much like agreeing with this to offer any sensible advice, but she felt called upon to try.
“I’m sure she loves you, Rosa. You just think she’s selfish—”
“Don’t—go—preaching. I just hate it, Nancy. And I’ve got an awful—temper.”
“So have I,” calmly replied Nancy.
This brought Rosa’s tear-stained face up from the pillows.
“Have you—honestly? That’s because we’re real cousins. Of course, Betty isn’t any real relation to me.” Rosa seemed very glad of that.
“Guess we are something alike,” persisted Nancy, glad to change the subject. “We’ve both got—big—mouths—”
This was too much for Rosa. She simply roared, shouted, laughing, as so often a tiny child will, in the very face of its own tears.
“Big mouths!” she repeated. “Haven’t we, though? Big, long, square mouths like, like prize fighters.”
“No,” objected Nancy, “like Abraham Lincoln’s—”