She will be here about four o'clock in the afternoon."
"To-morrow!" said Rosy, and then, without saying any more, she kissed
her mother and went to bed.
She went to sleep that evening, and she woke the next morning with a
strange jumble of feelings in her mind, and a strange confusion of
questions waiting to be answered.
"What would Beata be like? She was sure to be pretty--all people that
other people love very much were pretty, Rosy thought. And she
believed that she herself was very ugly, which, I may tell you,
children, as Rosy won't hear what we say, was quite a mistake.
Everybody is a _little_ pretty who is sweet and good, for though
being sweet and good doesn't alter the colour of one's hair or the
shape of one's nose, it does a great deal; it makes the cross lines
smooth away, or, rather, prevents their coming, and it certainly gives
the eyes a look that nothing else gives, does it not? But Rosy's face,
alas! was very often spoilt by frowns, and dark looks often took away
the prettiness of her eyes, and this was the more pity as the good
fairies who had welcomed her at her birth had evidently meant her to
be pretty. She had very soft bright hair, and a very white skin, and
large brown eyes that looked lovely when she let sweet thoughts and
feelings shine through them; but though she had many faults, she was
not vain, and she really thought she was not pleasant-looking at all.
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