We have hundreds more books for your enjoyment. Read them all!
|
|
For several days it had rained continuously; the streets were chilly
and sloppy and full of dreary, cold mist; there was mud everywhere--
sticky London mud--and over everything the pall of drizzle and fog.
Of course there were several long and tiresome errands to be done--
there always were on days like this--and Sara was sent out again
and again, until her shabby clothes were damp through. The absurd old
feathers on her forlorn hat were more draggled and absurd than ever,
and her downtrodden shoes were so wet that they could not hold any
more water. Added to this, she had been deprived of her dinner,
because Miss Minchin had chosen to punish her. She was so cold
and hungry and tired that her face began to have a pinched look,
and now and then some kind-hearted person passing her in the street
glanced at her with sudden sympathy. But she did not know that.
She hurried on, trying to make her mind think of something else.
It was really very necessary. Her way of doing it was to "pretend"
and "suppose" with all the strength that was left in her.
But really this time it was harder than she had ever found it,
and once or twice she thought it almost made her more cold
and hungry instead of less so. But she persevered obstinately,
and as the muddy water squelched through her broken shoes and the
wind seemed trying to drag her thin jacket from her, she talked
to herself as she walked, though she did not speak aloud or even move
her lips.
"Suppose I had dry clothes on," she thought. "Suppose I had good shoes
and a long, thick coat and merino stockings and a whole umbrella.
And suppose--suppose--just when I was near a baker's where they
sold hot buns, I should find sixpence--which belonged to nobody.
SUPPOSE> if I did, I should go into the shop and buy six of the
hottest buns and eat them all without stopping."
Some very odd things happen in this world sometimes.
|