Prev | Current Page 116 | Next

Turner, Ethel Sybil, 1872-1958

"Seven Little Australians"

"His
furnishing must be nearly finished now. He's not taken a saucepan
yet, nor a flat-iron, I know; but there's everything else, Martha;
and I don't mind telling you in confidence I'm thinking of giving you
a flat-iron myself as a wedding present, so you needn't wait till he
comes for that."
"Get out with you!" said Martha again, thrusting the broom-head
right into his face, and nearly choking him with dust. "It's a limb
of the old gentleman himself you are."
Away in the loft things were getting very comfortable.
A couple of rugs hung on the walls kept out the draught. Judy's bed,
soft and warm, was in a corner; she had a chair to sit in, a
table to eat at, even a basin in which to perform her ablutions.
And she had company all day; and nearly always all night. Once Meg
had stolen away, after fastening her bedroom door, and had shared the
bed in the loft; once Nellie had gone, and the other night Pip had
taken a couple of blankets and made himself a shakedown among the straw.
They used to pay her visits at all hours of the day, creeping up the
creaking ladder one after the other, whenever they could get away
unnoticed.
The governess had, as it happened, a fortnight's holiday, to nurse a
sick mother, so the girls and Bunty had no demands on their time.


Pages:
104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128