Pix to go away; it wasn't his business whether she was good or
naughty, and she wouldn't have him in her room. But she did _not_
do so,--she lay still again, and she was glad she had, for poor Fixie
stopped in his talking to pat her softly.

"Don't wake, poor Losy," he said. "Go on sleeping, Losy, if you are so
tired, and Fix will watch aside you and take care of you."

He seemed to have forgotten all about her being naughty--he sat beside
her, patting her softly, and murmuring a sort of cooing "Hush, hush,
Losy," as if she were a baby, that was very touching, like the murmur
of a sad little dove. And by and by, with going on repeating it so
often, his own head began to feel confused and drowsy--it dropped
lower and lower, and at last found a resting-place on Rosy's knees.
Rosy, who had really been getting sleepy, half woke up when she felt
the weight of her little brother's head and shoulder upon her--she
moved him a little so that he should lie more comfortably, and put one
arm round him.

"Dear Fixie," she said to herself, "I do love him, and I'm sure he
loves me," and her face grew soft and gentle--and when Rosy's face
looked like that it was very pretty and sweet. But it quickly grew
dark and gloomy again as another thought struck her. "If Fixie loves
that nasty little girl better than me or as much--if he loves her
_at all_, I'll--I don't know what I'll do. I'd almost hate him,
and I'm sure I'll hate her, any way. Mamma says she's such a dear good
little girl--that means that everybody'll say _I'm_ naughtier
than ever."

But just then Fixie moved a little and whispered something in his