"Zou's writing such a long time," said Fixie, "and Rosy's still at her
lessons. I zought when zou was better zou'd play wif me."
"I can't play much," said Bee, "for I've still got a funny buzzy
feeling in my head, and I'm rather tired."
"Yes, I know," said Fixie, with great sympathy, "mine head was like
fousands of trains when I was ill. We won't play, Bee, we'll only
talk."
"Well, I'll just finish my letter," said Bee. "I'll just tell Colin he
must tell me all about innings and outings, and all that, when he
comes home. Yes--that'll do. "Your affectionate--t-i-o-n-a-t-e--Bee."
Now I'll talk to you, Fixie. What a pity we haven't got Rosy's beads
to tell stories about!"
A queer look came into Fixie's face.
"Rosy's beads," he said.
"Yes, Rosy's necklace that was lost. And you didn't know where it was
gone when Martha asked you--when your mother wrote a letter about it."
As she spoke, she drew their two little chairs to what had always been
their favourite corner, near a window, which was low enough for them
to look out into the pretty garden.
"Don't sit there," said Fixie, "I don't like there."
"Why not? Don't you remember we were sitting here the last afternoon
we were in the nursery--before you went away. You liked it then, when
I told you stories about the beads, before they were lost."
"Before _zem_ was lost," said Fixie, his face again taking the
troubled, puzzled look; "I didn't know it was _zem_--I mean it
was somefin else of Rosy's that was lost--lace for her neck, that I'd
_never_ seen.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163