Rosy stood at the window. She drummed on the panes with her little fat fingers in a fidgety cross way; she pouted out her nice little mouth till it looked quite unlike itself; she frowned down with her eyebrows over her two bright eyes, making them seem like two small windows in a house with very overhanging roofs; and last of all, she stamped on the floor with first her right foot and then with her left. But it was all to no purpose, and this made Rosy still more vexed. "Mamma," she said at last, for really it was too bad-wasn't it?-when she had given herself such a lot of trouble to show how vexed she was, that no one should take any notice. "Mamma" she repeated.