“What were you doing there, you bad child?” demanded Rose, seizing the kicking feet and holding them fast.

“I don’t care,” blubbered Bella, “you wouldn’t tell me your secret.  You’re a real horrid girl, Rose Red.  I don’t love you a bit.”

“Your affection is not a thing which I particularly pine for,” retorted Rose, seating herself, and holding the culprit before her by the ends of her short pig-tails.  “I don’t want little girls who peep and hide to love me.  I’d rather they wouldn’t.  Now listen.  Do you know what I shall do if you ever come again into my room without leave.  First, I shall cut off your hair, pomatum and all, with my penknife,”—­Bella screamed,—­“and then I’ll turn myself into a bear—­a great brown bear —­and eat you up.”  Rose pronounced this threat with tremendous energy, and accompanied it with a snarl which showed all her teeth.  Bella roared with fright, twitched away her pig-tails, unlocked the door and fled, Rose not pursuing, but sitting comfortably in her chair and growling at intervals, till her victim was out of hearing.  Then she rose and bolted the door again.

“How lucky that the imp is so fond of that smelly pomatum!” she remarked:  “one always knows where to look for her.  It’s as good as a bell round her neck!  Now, for the secret.  You promise not to tell?  Well, then, Mrs. Florence is going away week after next, and, what’s more,—­she’s going to be married!”

“Not really!” cried the others.

“Really and truly.  She’s going to be married to a clergyman.”

“How did you find out?”

“Why, it’s the most curious thing.  You know my blue lawn, which Miss James is making.  This morning I went to try it on, Miss Barnes with me of course, and while Miss James was fitting the waist Mrs. Seccomb came in and sat down on the sofa by Miss Barnes.  They began to talk, and pretty soon Mrs. Seccomb said, ’What day does Mrs. Florence go?”

“‘Thursday week,’ said Miss Barnes.  She sort of mumbled it, and looked to see if I were listening.  I wasn’t; but of course after that I did,—­as hard as I could.

“‘And where does the important event take place?’ asked Mrs. Seccomb.  She’s so funny with her little bit of a mouth and her long words.  She always looks as if each of them was a big pill, and she wanted to swallow it and couldn’t.

“‘In Lewisberg, at her sister’s house,’ said Miss Barnes.  She mumbled more than ever, but I heard.

“‘What a deplorable loss she will be to our limited circle!’ said Mrs. Seccomb.  I couldn’t imagine what they meant.  But don’t you think, when I got home there was this letter from Sylvia, and she says, ’Your adored Mrs. Florence is going to be married.  I’m afraid you’ll all break your hearts about it.  Mother met the gentleman at a party the other night.  She says he looks clever, but isn’t at all handsome, which is a pity, for Mrs. Florence is a raving beauty