"
No sooner said than done. Off ran Rosy to her mother's room. It was
getting dusk, dark almost, any way too dark to see clearly. Rosy
fumbled about on the mantelpiece till she found the match-box, and
though she was generally too frightened of burning her fingers to
strike a light herself, this time she managed to do so. There were
candles on the dressing-table, and when she had lighted them she
proceeded to search. It was not difficult to find what she wanted. The
costumes were hanging up in the little wardrobe, as she expected, but
too high for her to reach easily. Rosy went to the door, and a little
way down the passage, and called Nelson. But no one answered, and it
was a good way off to Nelson's room.
"Nasty, selfish thing," said Rosy; "she's just going on writing to
tease me."
But she was too impatient, to go back to her own room and wait there.
With the help of a chair she got down the frocks. Bee's came first, of
course, because it wasn't wanted--Rosy flung it across the back of a
chair, and proceeded to examine her own more closely than she had been
able to do before. It _was_ pretty! And so complete--there was
even the little white mob-cap with blue ribbons, and a pair of blue
shoes with high, though not very high, heels! These last she found
lying on the shelf, above the hanging part of the wardrobe.
"It is _too_ pretty," said Rosy.
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