sat on the bench between Rosy and Matilda Stebbins, and Rosy had a
ring on the middle finger of her left hand. Rosy was a fair, pretty
little girl, with long light curls, which all the other girls admired
and begged for the privilege of twisting. Rosy at recess usually had
one or two of her friends standing at her back twisting her soft
curls over their fingers.

Rosy wore pretty gowns and aprons, too, and she was always glancing
down to see if her skirt was spread out nicely when she sat on the
bench. Her sister Matilda had just as pretty gowns, but she was not
pretty herself. However, she was a better scholar, although she was a
year younger. That day she kept glancing across Comfort at her
sister, and her black eyes twinkled angrily. Rosy sometimes sat with
her left hand pressed affectedly against her pink cheek, with the
ring-finger bent slightly outward; and then she held up her
spelling-book before her with her left hand, and the same
ostentatious finger.

Finally Matilda lost her patience, and she whispered across Comfort
Pease. "You act like a ninny," said she to Rosy, with a fierce pucker
of her red lips and a twinkle of her black eyes.

Rosy looked at her, and the pink spread softly all over her face and
neck; but she still held her spelling-book high, and the middle
finger with the ring wiggled at the back of it.

"It ain't anything but brass, neither," whispered Matilda.

"It ain't," Rosy whispered back.