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Christian's cheeks were now almost as red as Rosy's.

"It does sound too splendid," she said. "I wonder if I'll have strength to do it."

"Why, Miss Christian, what do you mean?"

"Well, you know, Rosy, it isn't good of me; it's downright bad of me."

"Oh, I didn't know," said Rosy, "that we was to think of the virtues. I thought you wasn't a bit that sort of goody-goody kind."

"Nor am I," said Christian, reddening. "But since I saw you I have heard about my grandmother, and she—she was wonderfully good. And she had spirit, too, Rosy—far more spirit than either you or I have. But she never thought of pleasing herself; that was the amazing thing about her."

"Well, no one can call you selfish, Miss Christian."

"But when I run away from the strict-discipline school I do please myself, don't I?" answered Christian.

Rosy had no answer for that; but presently her little face puckered up and she began to cry.

"I was that troubled," she began, bringing out the words through her sobs; "and Judith Ford—I promised her five shillings; so I did. I knew you'd pay it for getting her to hire the room and for going to Paddington with me. And I thought I wouldn't be scolded any more, nor have my finger pricked by the horrid needlework, nor anything of that sort; and now——"