'Hot? that is the very reason. What are you about? Rosy!--'

He went to the door, and then from where she sat Wych Hazel
could see the prompt handling which Rosy's endeavours to put
away the disorder received. She was taken off from picking up
nails, and dismissed into the library; while Rollo himself set
diligently about gathering together his boards and rubbish.
Primrose came in smiling.

'It is better with the windows open,' she said; 'but I was so
busy this morning I believe I forgot. And father never comes
into this room till evening. How it rains! I am so glad!'

And taking a piece of work from a basket, she placed herself
near Wych Hazel and began to sew. It was a pretty home
picture, such as Wych Hazel--in her school life and ward life--
had seen few. Just why it made her feel quiet she could not
have told. Yet the brown eyes went somewhat gravely from
Primrose at her work to the hall where Rollo felt so much at
home--then round the room and towards the window, watching the
rain.

'Won't you give me some work?' she asked suddenly.

'O talk!' said Primrose, looking up. 'Don't work.'

'It takes more than work to stop my mouth,' said Wych Hazel,
'Ah, I can work, though you don't believe it, Miss Rosy; do
please give me that ruffle--or a handkerchief,--don't you want