"Why did you not tell me about your hand last night, dear Bee?" Mrs. Vincent asked.
"It didn't hurt much. It doesn't hurt much now," said Bee, "and Fraser looked at it and saw that it was not very bad, and—and—you had had so many things to trouble you, Aunt Lillias," she added, affectionately.
"Yes, dear; but, when I think how much worse they might have been, I dare not complain," Rosy's mother replied.
Bee did not go to church that day. Her headache was not very bad, but it did not seem to get well, and it was still rather bad when she woke the next morning.
And that next morning brought back to all their minds what, for the moment, had been almost forgotten—that it was within three days of the fete at Summerlands!—for there came a note from Lady Esther, giving some particulars about the hour she hoped they would all come, and rejoicing in the promise of fine weather for the children's treat.
Rosy's mother read the note aloud. Then she looked at Aunt Edith, and looked at the little girls. They were all together when the letter came.
"What is to be done?" said Miss Vincent; "I had really forgotten the fête was to be on Wednesday. Is it impossible to have a new dress made in time?"
"Quite impossible," said Mrs. Vincent, "Rosy must cheerfully, or at least patiently, bear what she has brought on herself, and be, as I am sure she is, very thankful that it was no worse."
Rosy glanced up quickly. She seemed as if she were going to say something, and the look in her face was quite gentle.
"I—I—I will try to be good, mamma," she broke out at last. "And I know I might have been burnt to death if it hadn't been for Bee. And—and—I hope Bee will enjoy the fête."