Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Motherless families -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
"Thank you very much indeed, Aunt Sawah," said Diana, slipping down
from her seat close to Orion on the bench, and preparing to attack her
breakfast. "P'w'aps," she continued, as she put great mouthfuls of
porridge into her mouth, "when we has finished this nice bekfus you'll
take us back to Wectory? You see, you isn't our aunt weally, not by no
manner of wights, and Uncle Ben isn't our uncle, and so we ought not
to stay here; and if we go back to Wectory, why, Uncle William, what's
our weal uncle, p'w'aps he would pay you money, if it's money you
wants."
"Yes; it's true enough, it is money we want," replied the woman; "but,
my dear," she added, the tears springing to her eyes, "I can't take
you back to no Rectory. You have just got to stay here and to watch
Uncle Ben when he's going through his rehearsal, and then this
afternoon we are going on a very long journey, and you are coming with
us--and oh, I forgot to say that, when you have finished your
breakfast, I must put something on your faces."
"Something on our faces?" said Diana.
"Yes, my little love; it has to be done. But when we get to another
part of the country I'll wash the ugly stuff off again, and you'll
look as fair and pretty as you do now. It won't make much difference
after all to you, little missy," she added, gazing fixedly at Diana,
"'cos you are very dark by nature. Yes, I had a little kid of my own,
a little gal, and she wasn't unlike you--no, not by no means. I'll be
kind to you for her pretty sake, my little dear. Now, eat your
breakfast, and be quick, the pair of you."
"Has your little girl what was like me got deaded?" asked Diana, in a
very thoughtful and earnest voice.
"She is dead, my dear. Yes, yes, she is dead," replied the woman. "Eat
up your breakfast now; I have no time to answer questions."
Orion did not need a second bidding; he had already plunged his spoon
into the porridge, and soon his little bowl was empty, and also the
jug of milk. Diana also finished her breakfast, but more thoughtfully.
She was a wonderfully wise little girl for her tender years, and at
the present moment she was dreadfully puzzled to know what to do. She
was quite shrewd enough to guess that Mother Rodesia was a bad sort of
woman, and that she, Diana, had done wrong ever to trust herself to
her. Uncle Ben, too, in spite of her brave words, terrified her more
or less. All things considered, therefore, she would not have been at
all sorry to find herself back again at the Rectory, with Miss Ramsay
to teach her, and Aunt Jane hovering in the background. "Isn't it
funny, we has got our nightdwesses on?" she said suddenly. "Woman,
it's not pwoper to have our bekfus in our nightdwesses; and these are
such keer nightdwesses, not at all what they ought to be. Our mother
would not like us to be dwessed in this sort of style. Can you get our
day dwesses, p'ease, for us to put on, Aunt Sawah?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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