It's just like Charlotte to do such an underhand trick.
But I'll go after her! I'll show her! She'll find out she has
got Rosetta Ellis to deal with and no Wheeler!"
Like a frantic creature and wholly forgetting that her hair was
in curl-papers, Miss Rosetta hurried up the hill and down the
shore road to the Wheeler Farm--a place she had never visited in
her life before.
The wind was off-shore and only broke the bay's surface into long
silvery ripples, and sent sheeny shadows flying out across it
from every point and headland, like transparent wings.
The little gray house, so close to the purring waves that in
storms their spray splashed over its very doorstep, seemed
deserted. Miss Rosetta pounded lustily on the front door. This
producing no result, she marched around to the back door and
knocked. No answer. Miss Rosetta tried the door. It was
locked.
"Guilty conscience," sniffed Miss Rosetta. "Well, I shall stay
here until I see that perfidious Charlotte, if I have to camp in
the yard all night."
Miss Rosetta was quite capable of doing this, but she was spared
the necessity; walking boldly up to the kitchen window, and
peering through it, she felt her heart swell with anger as she
beheld Charlotte sitting calmly by the table with Camilla Jane on
her knee. Beside her was a befrilled and bemuslined cradle, and
on a chair lay the garments in which Miss Rosetta had dressed the
baby.
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