"I've been telling Bee about Miss Pink," said Colin. "She hadn't heard
about her before."
"She's a stupid old thing," said Rosy respectfully.
"But she's kind, isn't she?" asked Beata.
"Oh yes; I daresay you'll think her kind. But I don't care for
her--much. She's rather pretending."
"I can't understand why you think so many people pretending," said
Bee. "I think it must be very uncomfortable to feel like that."
"But if they _are_ pretending, it's best to know it," said Rosy.
Beata felt herself getting puzzled again. Colin came to the rescue.
"I don't think it is best to know it," he said, "at least not Rosy's
way, for she thinks it of everybody."
"No, I don't," said Rosy, "not _everybody_."
"Well, you think it of great lots, any way. I'd rather think some
people good who aren't good than think some people who _are_ good
_not_ good--wouldn't you, Bee?"
Beata had to consider a moment in order to understand quite what Colin
meant; she liked to understand things clearly, but she was not always
very quick at doing so.
"Yes," she said, "I think so too. Besides, there _are_ lots of
very kind and good people in the world--really kind and good, not
pretending a bit. And then, too, mother used to tell me that feeling
kind ourselves made others feel kind to us, without their quite
knowing how sometimes."
Rosy listened, though she said nothing; but when she kissed Beata in
saying good-night, she whispered, "I did go on trying, Bee, and I
think it does get a very little easier.
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