Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Family life -- Juvenile fiction; Grandparents -- Juvenile fiction
"There isn't any big sea near here," he said; "I only said if there was.
It's just that I am so very midderable. I wish Nurse hadn't got ill."
"Oh, so do I," said Pamela fervently.
By this time they had reached Spy Tower. Pamela seated herself
discreetly on the bench, though it was so much too high for her that her
short legs dangled in the air. Duke established himself on the ground in
front of her. It was a very still day--more like late summer than
spring--hardly a leaf stirred, and in the distance various sounds, the
far-off barking of a dog, the faint crowing and cackling of cocks and
hens, the voices, subdued to softness, "of the village boys and girls at
play," all mingled together pleasantly. The children were too young to
explain to themselves the pleasant influences about them, of the soft
sunshine and the cloudless sky, seen through the network of branches
overhead, of the balmy air and sweet murmurs of bird and insect life
rejoicing in the spring-time; but they felt them nevertheless.
"How very happy us would have been to-day if it hadn't been for the bowl
being brokened," said Duke.
"No, it began before that," said Pamela. "It was the not telling
Grandmamma. I fink that was the real naughty, bruvver. I don't _fink_
Grandmamma would have minded so much us giving the bread and milk to
Toby."
"Her wouldn't have given us any treat," objected Duke.
"Well, that wouldn't have mattered very much for once. And perhaps it
would have been a good fing; _perhaps_ Grandmamma would have told Cook
not to send up quite so much, and----"
"Why do you say that _now_?" said Duke rather crossly; "it's only making
it all worser and worser. I wish----"
But what Duke wished was never to be known, for just at that moment
sounds coming down the lane, evidently drawing nearer and nearer, made
him start up and peep out from behind the few thin low-growing shrubs at
the top of the wall.
"Hush, sister," he said, quite forgetting that it was himself and not
"sister" who had been speaking,--"there are _such_ funny people coming
down the lane. Come here, close by me; there, you can see them--don't
they look funny?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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