You are
quite happy about your aunt now, aren't you, my Rose?"
Rose looked aghast at the prospect of spending the whole summer in the
flat. She hardly knew how she was to endure it till June.
"I must go home in June, Pauline," she said hastily. "I couldn't stay
longer than that."
"Well, we shall see," said Pauline gaily. "You won't talk so lightly about
going back when you have had a few more weeks of freedom, Rose. And if
your aunt is so well provided for, there will be no need for you to go
back. You won't be wanted."
"Oh yes, I shall be," Rose answered, with a swelling heart. Tom had made
her feel sure of that. "Pauline, please don't think about my staying here
after June. I can't stay. I want to go home."
"You haven't forgiven me for that wretched concert!" Pauline exclaimed.
"I haven't thought of it again. It isn't that, Pauline. How could it be?
But I want to go home."
"You will be miserable, just as you were before. Remember how you talked
to me. You were bored to death."
Rose flushed scarlet. "I wasn't. Or if I was, I don't mean to be so silly
again."
Pauline looked at her with an angry glance. "You are a homesick baby,
Rose, that is the long and short of it. I gave you credit for being
grown-up. It was a mistake you coming here at all. Clare didn't get
homesick."
"Clare had her work," answered Rose, knitting her pretty brows and looking
miserably at Pauline's angry face.
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