The Brownies and Other Tales by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing
page 15 of 183 (08%)
page 15 of 183 (08%)
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His brother led him in as the Tailor spoke, not literally by his snub,
though, but by the hand. They were a handsome pair, this lazy couple. Johnnie especially had the largest and roundest of foreheads, the reddest of cheeks, the brightest of eyes, the quaintest and most twitchy of chins, and looked altogether like a gutta-percha cherub in a chronic state of longitudinal squeeze. They were locked together by two grubby paws, and had each an armful of moss, which they deposited on the floor as they came in. "I've swept this floor once to-day," said the father, "and I'm not going to do it again. Put that rubbish outside." "Move it, Johnnie!" said his brother, seating himself on a stool, and taking out his knife and a piece of wood, at which he cut and sliced; while the apple-cheeked Johnnie stumbled and stamped over the moss, and scraped it out on the doorstep, leaving long trails of earth behind him, and then sat down also. "And those chips the same," added the Tailor; "I will _not_ clear up the litter you lads make." "Pick 'em up, Johnnie," said Thomas Trout, junior, with an exasperated sigh; and the apple tumbled up, rolled after the flying chips, and tumbled down again. "Is there any supper, Father?" asked Tommy. "No, there is not, Sir, unless you know how to get it," said the Tailor; and taking his pipe, he went out of the house. "Is there really nothing to eat, Granny?" asked the boy. |
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