"Nobody could help liking her, Miss Rosie. It's just like having a bit o' sunshine in the house. The mistress would ha' missed you bad enough if she hadn't had Miss Sampson to cheer her up. But nobody could feel lonely with her about. And it's wonderful what she knows about a garden."
"Do they have gardens in Australia?" asked Rose. It was the sort of remark Pauline might have made. But Rose was feeling very cross.
Wilmot did not notice the spitefulness in her voice. "They seem to have lovely gardens out there, my dearie. Miss Sampson was telling me of the different flowering trees they've got when she was in the kitchen on Tuesday. I'd promised to show her how to make those drop cakes you're so fond of, Miss Rosie. But I'll go and see about your tea. I wish you'd come this morning. The mistress was saying only yesterday that she was longing to see you."
Rose went up to her room while tea was being made ready for her. It was all in perfect order, as if ready for her to take possession of it at any moment. There was even a vase of fresh primroses on the little table by the window. The room that had been prepared for Rhoda was next to it. The door stood partly open, and Rose could not forbear taking one look. It was only one look. She hurried on, feeling ashamed of her curiosity. But she got an impression of exquisite neatness and freshness, and by some odd working of the law of contrast it was Pauline's room she thought of as she ran downstairs.
In the dining-room she noticed with jealous eyes how carefully the plants in the flower-stands before the windows had been tended, and with what care and skill the flowers on the table had been arranged. Wilmot hung round her at tea, pressing her to eat all sorts of dainties, and she could have easily learnt a great deal about Rhoda. The old servant seemed anxious to speak of her, anxious to impress Rose with her sweetness and goodness.
But Rose cut her short. She refused to interest herself in the stranger who in a few weeks' time would pass out of their lives again. And she grew cross at last at Wilmot's continual praises of her.
She went back by an earlier train than she had intended. She found that her aunt and the others would not return till dark; it was no good to wait for them.
