"Miss Pink," said Rosy, "I won't do any sums. I told you so yesterday, and you know I mean what I say. If Bee chooses to tell tales, she may, but I won't do any sums."
Miss Pink looked from one to the other.
"There is no use my doing sums without Rosy," said Bee. "We are at the same place and it would put everything wrong."
"Yes," said Miss Pink. "I cannot give you separate lessons. It would put everything wrong. But I'm sure you're only joking, Rosy dear. We won't say anything about the sums to-day, and then to-morrow we'll go on regularly again, and dear Beata will see it will all be right."
"No," said Rosy, "it won't be all right if you try to make me do any sums to-morrow or any day."
Bee said nothing. She did not know what to say. She could hardly believe Rosy was the same little girl as the Rosy whom she had heard crying in the night, who had made her so happy by talking about trying to be good. And how many days the silly dispute might have gone on, there is no telling, had it not happened that the very next morning, just as they came to the time for the arithmetic lesson, the door opened and Mrs. Vincent came in.
"Good morning, Miss Pinkerton," she said. "I've come to see how you are all getting on,"—for Miss Pinkerton did not live in the house, she only came every morning at nine o'clock—"you don't find your new pupil very troublesome, I hope?" she went on, with a smile at Beata.
"Oh dear, no! oh, certainly not," said Miss Pinkerton nervously; "oh dear, no—Miss Beata is very good indeed. Everything's very nice—oh we're very happy, thank you—dear Rosy and dear Beata and I."
"I am very glad to hear it," said Mrs. Vincent, but she spoke rather gravely, for on coming into the room it had not looked to her as if everything was "very nice." Beata looked grave and troubled, Miss Pinkerton flurried, and there was a black cloud on Rosy's face that her mother knew only too well. "What lessons are you at now?" she went on.
"Oh, ah!" began Miss Pinkerton, fussing among some of the books that lay on the table. "We've just finished a chapter of our English history, and—and—I was thinking of giving the dear children a dictation."