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Turner, Ethel Sybil, 1872-1958

"Seven Little Australians"


The losses preyed upon Martha, for the things seemed to disappear
while the children were in bed; and though she suspected them, and
watched them continually, she could get no clear proof of their
guilt, nor even find any motive for them abstracting such things.
And after the disappearance of each fresh article, Pip used to ask
whether the corduroy-trousered gentleman had been to the house the
night before. And as it always happened, that he had, Martha could do
nothing but cast a wrathful glance at the boy and flounce from the
room.
One night the little chess-table from the nursery was spirited away.
Pip fell upon Martha's neck the, next morning early, as she was
sweeping the carpet, and affected to be dissolved in tears.
"'We never prize the violet,'" he said, in broken tones. "Ah!
Martha, Martha! we never felt what a treasure we had in you till now,
when your days with us are numbered."
"Get along with you," she said, hitting out at him with the broom
handle. "And I ain't a-goin' to leave, so don't you think it. You'd
have it your own way then too much. No; you don't get shut of
Martha Tornlinson just yet, young man."
"But won't he be wanting you, Martha?" he said gently.


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