"But, my dear little girl--" (When Rose cried, which was seldom, Mrs. Blossom called her daughter who was as tall as herself, "little girl," and nothing comforted Rose more than that.) So now, hearing the loving words, the head emerged from the bedclothes, and a tear-wet face was meekly held over the side of the bed for a kiss.
"But, my dear little girl," Mrs. Blossom went on after the interruption, "surely you were courteous and thoughtful of Hazel's happiness, at least, to ask them all up here to tea. You have n't that to regret."
There was a fresh burst, smothered quickly under the sheet. "Oh, Martie, that's the worst part of it! I did n't ask them for Hazel's sake, but just for myself, because I knew--I knew--" Rose smothered the rising sob; "that if they came, I could have on my one pretty dress, and they 'd see that I--that I--" Rose was unable to finish.
"Could look as well as they did?" said Mrs. Blossom, completing the sentence.
"Yes," sighed Rose, "and I feel like a perfect hypocrite towards every one of them;--and, oh, Martie! the truth is, I was ashamed of being poor and selling berries--" again the head went under the coverlet, and Mrs. Blossom caught only broken phrases:--
"I am so proud of--of you and Popsey--poor Chi made it worse--they laughed--March was mad, too,--and Miss Seaton 's so pretty--clothes--Hazel's cousin tried to be polite--Hazel--just her dear own self--but she 's rich--and Cherry f-fell into his arms--and I know--and I know--I know he wanted to be out of the whole thing--oh dear!"
Mrs. Blossom patted the bunch under the clothes whence came the smothered, broken sentences, and smiled while a tear rolled down her cheek. After all, this was real grief, and she wished she might have shielded her Rose from just this kind of contact with the world. But she was wise enough not to say so.
"Well, Rose dear, let's look on the other side now the invitation has been given. I, for my part, shall be glad to see what they are like. I know you looked queer in those old clothes, but, after all, would n't it have been just as queer to have been all dressed up selling berries?"
"Yes, I think it would, Martie," said Rose, emerging from her retreat. "I 'm not such a goose as not to realize we must have looked perfectly comical."
"Well, now comfort yourself with the thought, that to-morrow you need only look just as nice as you can in honor of our guests. I 'm sure I shall," said Mrs. Blossom, laughing softly. "I 'm not going to be outdone by all those 'high-flyers,' as dear, old Chi calls them. We 'll put on our prettiest--and there is n't much choice, you know, for we have just one apiece--and we 'll set the table with grandmother's old china out on the porch, and we 'll give them of our best, and queens, Rose-pose, can do no more. That's our duty; we'll let the others look out for theirs. Now, what will be nice for tea?"