For Rosy had kissed her warmly as they bade each other good-night for the second time.
"It was very nice of Bee to get out of bed in the dark to come to me," she said to herself. "She is good, but I don't think she is pretending," and it was this feeling that made the beginning of Rosy's friendship for Beata—trust.
The little girls slept till later than usual the next morning, for they had been a good while awake in the night. Rosy began grumbling and declaring she would not get up, and there was very nearly the beginning of a stormy scene with Martha when the sound of Bee's voice calling out "Good-morning, Rosy," from the next room reminded her of their talk in the night, and though she did not feel all at once able to speak good-naturedly to Martha, she left off scolding. But her face did not look as pleasant as Beata had hoped to see it when she came into the nursery.
"Don't speak to me, please," she said in a low voice, "I haven't settled yet what I'm going to do. I'm still thinking about it."
Bee did not say any more, but the morning passed peacefully, and once or twice when Colin began some of the teasing which seemed as necessary to him as his dinner or his breakfast, Rosy contented herself with a wriggle or a little growl instead of fiery words and sometimes even blows. And when Colin, surprised at her patience went further and further, ending by tying a long mesh of her hair to the back of her chair, while she was busy fitting a frock on to one of the little dolls, and then, calling her suddenly, made her start up and really hurt herself, Beata was astonished at her patience. She gave a little scream, it is true—who could have helped it?—and then rushed out of the room, but not before the others had seen the tears that were running down her cheeks.
"Colin," said Bee, and, for a moment or two, it almost seemed to the boy as if Rosy's temper had passed into the quiet little girl, "I am ashamed of you. You naughty, cruel boy, just when poor Rosy was——"
She stopped suddenly—"just when poor Rosy was beginning to try to be good," she was going to have said, forgetting her promise to tell no one of Rosy's plans,—"just when we were all quiet and comfortable," she said instead.
Colin looked ashamed.
"I won't do it any more," he said, "I won't really. Besides there's no fun in only making her cry. It was only fun when it put her into a rage."
"Nice fun," said Bee, with scorn.