The Golden Scarecrow by Sir Hugh Walpole
page 71 of 207 (34%)
page 71 of 207 (34%)
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crooked stairs, sudden dark doors, mysterious bells and drippings of
water--out of all this her aunts came.... Unfortunately it was just at this moment that Miss Emily Braid decided that it was time to take her niece in hand. "The child's three, Violet, and very backward for her age. Why, Mrs. Mancaster's little girl, who's just Angelina's age, can talk fluently, and is beginning with her letters. We don't want Jim to be disappointed in the child when he comes home next year." It would be difficult to determine how much of this was true; Miss Emily was aggravated and, although she would never have confessed to so trivial a matter, the perpetual worship of Rose--"the ugliest thing you ever saw"--was irritating her. The days followed, then, when Angelina was constantly in her aunt's company, and to neither of them was this companionship pleasant. "You must ask me questions, child. How are you ever going to learn to talk properly if you don't ask me questions?" "Yes, auntie." "What's that over there?" "Twee." "Say tree, not twee." "Tree." "Now look at me. Put that wretched doll down.... Now.... That's right. Now tell me what you've been doing this morning." |
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