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2020-08-04 11:30:45  Դձ
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ŷޱͳַ:a g 9 559 v i p

This used to interest and amuse her more than anything else; and queer and fanciful as it was, she found comfort in it and it was a good thing for her. While the thought held possession of her, she could not be made rude and malicious by the rudeness and malice of those about her.

ŷޱͳƣ廭

"What WERE his business troubles?" she said. "What WERE they?"

"You are," said Jessie. "A great big tear just rolled down the bridge of your nose and dropped off at the end of it. And there goes another."

She suddenly turned her head because she heard a sound a few yards away from her. It was an odd sound like a queer little squeaky chattering. It came from the window of the next attic. Someone had come to look at the sunset as she had. There was a head and a part of a body emerging from the skylight, but it was not the head or body of a little girl or a housemaid; it was the picturesque white-swathed form and dark-faced, gleaming-eyed, white-turbaned head of a native Indian man-servant--"a Lascar," Sara said to herself quickly--and the sound she had heard came from a small monkey he held in his arms as if he were fond of it, and which was snuggling and chattering against his breast.

ŷޱͳƣ ɻ

When the door opened she moved away--remembering the sixpence-- but she saw the traveler come out and stand against the background of the warmly-lighted hall, the older children still hovering about him.<"Why does she say I am a beautiful child?" she was thinking. "I am not beautiful at all. Colonel Grange's little girl, Isobel, is beautiful. She has dimples and rose-colored cheeks, and long hair the color of gold. I have short black hair and green eyes; besides which, I am a thin child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children I ever saw. She is beginning by telling a story."

"Ah, madame," he said, "there is not much I can teach her. She has not LEARNED French; she is French. Her accent is exquisite."

ŷޱͳƣйҶ ۻ

"Yes," answered Sara, nodding. "Adversity tries people, and mine has tried you and proved how nice you are."

"Well," she remarked, "I do not know whether your mamma would like you to tell stories to servant girls, but I know MY mamma wouldn't like ME to do it."

Today a frock the color of a rose had been put on her, and Mariette had bought some real buds and made her a wreath to wear on her black locks. She had been learning a new, delightful dance in which she had been skimming and flying about the room, like a large rose-colored butterfly, and the enjoyment and exercise had brought a brilliant, happy glow into her face.

ŷޱͳƣͻ

<"My eye, miss!" ejaculated Becky. "A blanket 'all!" and she turned to view the splendors about her with awed bewilderment."No. She will think I am in bed. Don't stir."

She stood panting a moment longer, and then cried out again.

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ŷޱͳƲƵشɲȺpkpick˭ In the Attic ϸ

Բ˯ãҾܲˡ Ͷϸ¶| ̵2018|ѧЯƼ 廪:Ȩ

ŷޱͳ˹5ֵ500Ԫ ˹ɼ "I think he engaged her," she said, "because he--he thought I would like her, Miss Minchin." ϸ

ŷޱͳǧѷԳ20200202֤֣ţ| ̵2018|ҵ˾ǿգ״̬
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