Though Rosie never did anything quite so frightening again, she continued to get into mischief. Mama was all for keeping her closer to home, but Papa decided that it was her lack of friends her age that made her so queer. She had a regular circle of friends among the cats on the street, and she chatted with the neighbor’s cook, but she hadn’t had any close companions among her peers for a while. Papa thought about it, and he determined that she ought to go to school. Mrs. Hubbins several streets over ran a school for girls, and said she would be glad to accept Rosie into her class.
Mama, of course, was indignant. She told Papa in no uncertain terms that she taught Rosie perfectly well and would be much more comfortable if Rosie would just stay at home, out of harm’s way. But what Papa wanted, Papa eventually got. It came of being a merchant; Mama had never learnt how to bargain.
And so Papa ushered a reluctant twelve-year-old Rosie, dressed in a new white frock, to her first day of school.