"
So she looked up at Mr. Furnivale with her pretty honest eyes--Rosy's
eyes were honest too--and like her mother's when she was sweet and
good--and said frankly,
"You won't think me selfish I am sure--I think you will believe that I
do it from good motives--when I ask you not to change, but still to
give it to Rosy. I will take care that little Bee does not suffer for
it in the end."
"And I too," said Mr. Furnivale, "If I _can_ find another
necklace when I go back to Venice. I shall not forget to send
it--indeed, I might write to the dealer beforehand to look out for
one. I am sure you are right, and on the whole I am glad, for Cecy did
buy it for your own little girl."
"Would you like to give it her now?" said Mrs. Vincent, and as Mr.
Furnivale said "Yes," she went to the window opening out on to the
lawn where the three children were now playing, and called Rosy.
"I wonder what mamma wants," thought Rosy to herself, as she walked
towards the drawing-room rather slowly and sulkily, leaving Bee and
Fixie to go on running races (for when I said "the children" were
playing, I should have said Beata and Felix--not Rosy). "I daresay she
will be going to scold me, now luncheon's over. I wish that ugly old
Mr. Furniture would go away," for all the cross, angry, jealous
thoughts had come back to poor Rosy since she had taken it into her
head again about Bee being put before her, and all her good wishes and
plans, which had grown stronger through her mother's gentleness, had
again flown away, like a flock of frightened white doves, looking back
at her with sad eyes as they flew.
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