Rose had had her own way all her life.
[Illustration: PAULINE LEANT AGAINST THE DRESSER AND WATCHED HER.]
"There, it is quite ready now," Rose said, as she finished cutting the
bread and butter. "If you will move a little, Pauline, I will carry the
tray in."
"I ought to do that," said Pauline lazily. "What will your aunt think,
Rosie? I am not treating you like a visitor, am I?"
"I wish I wasn't a visitor," said Rose, with a faint little sigh. "I envy
Clare more than I ever envied anybody. She must be having a lovely time."
"It will soon be over, poor dear. I wish"--Pauline stopped again, and
began a fresh sentence. "You and I would get on better than Clare and I
do, Rose. We like the same things. She does not care a bit for music, but
I can't live without it. What delightful times we could have together,
Rose! But I don't suppose your aunt would hear of it. She is more
old-fashioned in her ideas than Lady Desborough."
Rose had clasped her hands together. "Oh, Pauline, it would be too
delightful! Would you really like to have me? Aunt Lucy might let me come,
though I'm afraid she could not get on without me. And there's Tom!"
Pauline's dark eyes grew quizzical "I didn't know you were afraid of Tom,
Rose. Doesn't he think everything you do is right? Was there ever a little
girl so spoiled by a big brother?"
"But he thinks I ought always to be at home to wait on him.
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