Bee, choking with sobs--never, _never_, she said
to herself, not even when her mother went away, had she felt so
miserable, never had Aunt Lillias spoken to her like that before--poor
Bee rushed off to her room, and shutting the door, threw herself on
the floor and wondered _what_ she should do!
Mrs. Vincent, if she had only known it, was nearly as unhappy as she.
It was not often she allowed herself to feel worried and vexed, as she
had felt that morning, but everything had seemed to go wrong--Miss
Pink's complaints, which were _not_ true, about Bee had really
grieved her. For Miss Pink had managed to make it seem that it was
mostly Bee's fault---and she had said little things which had made
Mrs. Vincent really unhappy about Bee being so very sweet and good
before people, but not _really_ so good when one saw more of her.
Mrs. Vincent would not let Miss Pink see that she minded what she
said; she would hardly own it to herself. But for all that it had left
a sting.
"_Can_ I have been mistaken in Bee?" was the thought that kept
coming into her mind. For Miss Pink had mixed up truth with untruths.
"_Rosy,_" she had said, "whatever her faults, is so very honest,"
which her mother knew to be true, but Mrs. Vincent did not--for she
was too honest herself to doubt other people--see that Miss Pink liked
better to throw the blame on Bee, not out of ill-will to Bee, but
because she was so very afraid that if there was any more trouble
about Rosy, she would have to leave off being her governess.
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