"What were you going to say, Colin?" she asked. "I'm sure--" but she
too stopped, for just then wheels were heard on the gravel drive
outside.

"Here they are," said mother. "Will you come to the door to welcome
Beata, Rosy?"

Rosy came forward, though rather slowly. Colin was already out in the
hall, and Fixie was dancing along beside his mother. Rosy kept behind.
The carriage, that had gone to the station to meet the travellers, was
already at the door, and the footman was handing out one or two
umbrellas, rugs, and so on. Then a gray-haired gentleman, whom Rosy,
peeping through a side window, did not waste her attention on--"He is
quite old," she said to herself--got out, and lifted down a much
smaller person--smaller than Rosy herself, and a good deal smaller
than the Beata of Rosy's fancies. The little person sprang forward,
and was going to kiss Rosy's mother, when she caught sight of the tiny
white face beside her.

"O Fixie, dear little Fixie!" she said, stooping to hug him, and then
she lifted her own face for Fixie's mother to kiss. At once, almost
before shaking hands with the gentleman, Rosy's mother looked round
for her, and Rosy had to come forward.

"Beata, dear, this is my Rosy," she said; and something in the tone of
the "my" touched Rosy. It seemed to say, "I will put no one before
you, my own little girl--no stranger, however sweet--and you will, on
your side, try to please me, will you not?" So Rosy's face, though
grave, had a nice look the first time Beata saw it, and the first
words she said as they kissed each other were, "O Rosy, how pretty you