"I think she is kind," said Bee, but that was all she said.
It was true that Miss Pinkerton meant to be kind, but she did not manage to gain the children's hearts, and Bee soon came to understand why Rosy called her "pretending." She was so afraid of vexing anybody that she had got into the habit of agreeing with every one without really thinking over what they meant, and she was so afraid also of being blamed for Rosy's tempers that she would give in to her in any way. So Rosy did not respect her, and was sometimes really rude to her.
"Miss Pink," she said one morning a few days after lessons had begun again, "I don't want to learn any more arithmetic."
"No, my dear?" said Miss Pink, mildly. "But what will you do when you are grown-up if you cannot count—everybody needs to know how to count, or else they can't manage their money."
"I don't want to know how to manage my money," replied Rosy, "somebody must do it for me. I won't learn any more arithmetic, Miss Pink."
Miss Pink, as was a common way of hers in a difficulty with Rosy, pretended not to hear, but Beata noticed, and so, you may be sure, did Rosy, that they had no arithmetic that morning, though Miss Pink said nothing about it, leaving it to seem as if it were by accident.
Beata liked sums, and did them more quickly than her other lessons. But she said nothing. When lessons were over and they were alone, Rosy threw two or three books up in the air, and caught them again.
"Aha!" she said mischievously, "we'll have no more nasty sums—you'll see."
"Rosy," said Bee, "you can't be in earnest. Miss Pink won't leave off giving us sums for always."
"Won't she?" said Rosy. "She'll have to. I won't do them."