'It's to be hoped you will,' said her husband. 'Women are always fancying
they are ill. They lie still thinking about it, and nursing themselves up,
long after a man would have been at his work again. It's half laziness,
that's what it is!' said Augustus fiercely.

'If you felt as ill as I do, Augustus,' said his wife, 'I'm sure you
wouldn't do any work.'

'Hold your tongue!' said her husband; 'I know better than that. Well, mind
you have Rosalie ready in time; we shall begin early to-night.'

Little Rosalie had crept to her mother's side, and was crying quietly at
her father's rough words.

'Stop crying this minute, child!' said Augustus harshly. 'Wipe your eyes,
you great baby! Do you think you'll be fit to come on the stage if they're
red and swollen with crying? Do you hear me? Stop at once, or it will be
the worse for you!' he shouted, as he shut the caravan door.

'Rosalie, darling,' said her mother, 'you mustn't cry; your father will be
so angry, and it's time you got ready. What a noise there is in the fair
already!' said the poor woman, holding her aching head.

Rosalie wiped her eyes and washed her face, and then brought out from one
of the boxes the dress in which she was to act at the play. It was a white
muslin dress, looped up with pink roses, and there was a wreath of paper
roses to wear in her hair. She dressed herself before a tiny looking-glass,
and then went to her mother to have the wreath of roses fastened on her
head.