But not the child who puts a pound of
gunpowder into a red-hot fire, and escapes with her life by a
miracle."
"And yet, I daresay," suggested Robina, "that if one put it into a
book--I mean that if you put it into a book, it would read
amusingly."
"Likely enough," I agreed. "Other people's troubles can always be
amusing. As it is, I shall be in a state of anxiety for the next six
months, wondering, every moment that she is out of my sight, what new
devilment she is up to. The Little Mother will be worried out of her
life, unless we can keep it from her."
"Children will be children," murmured Robina, meaning to be
comforting.
"That is what I am complaining of, Robina. We are always hoping that
ours won't be. She is full of faults, Veronica, and they are not
always nice faults. She is lazy--lazy is not the word for it."
"She is lazy," Robina was compelled to admit.
"There are other faults she might have had and welcome," I pointed
out; "faults I could have taken an interest in and liked her all the
better for. You children are so obstinate. You will choose your own
faults. Veronica is not truthful always. I wanted a family of
little George Washingtons, who could not tell a lie. Veronica can.
To get herself out of trouble--and provided there is any hope of
anybody believing her--she does."
"We all of us used to when we were young," Robina maintained; "Dick
used to, I used to.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148