Mancaster's little girl, who's
just Angelina's age, can talk fluently, and is beginning with her
letters. We don't want Jim to be disappointed in the child when he comes
home next year." It would be difficult to determine how much of this was
true; Miss Emily was aggravated and, although she would never have
confessed to so trivial a matter, the perpetual worship of Rose--"the
ugliest thing you ever saw"--was irritating her. The days followed,
then, when Angelina was constantly in her aunt's company, and to neither
of them was this companionship pleasant.
"You must ask me questions, child. How are you ever going to learn to
talk properly if you don't ask me questions?"
"Yes, auntie."
"What's that over there?"
"Twee."
"Say tree, not twee."
"Tree."
"Now look at me. Put that wretched doll down.... Now.... That's right.
Now tell me what you've been doing this morning."
"We had bweakfast--nurse said I--(long pause for breath)--was dood
girl; Auntie Vi'let came; I dwew with my pencil."
"Say 'drew,' not 'dwew.'"
"Drew."
All this was very exhausting to Aunt Emily.
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