There is another personage in the household, who probably thinks that
in the exuberant kindness of my aunt I have a full average of
civility, without the least interest on her part. Do not for a moment
imagine that I am piqued at her insulting indifference of manner
towards a young man who (I beg you to believe) is not wholly without
claim to a glance of approbation now and then from a lady's eye. You
must not suppose I care at all about the matter. But as I have not
even a book allowed me to take up my thoughts, my curiosity fixes
itself strangely upon this silent, sulky, meditative little person,
who takes about as much notice of me as of the figure of Father Time
over the clock.
What can such a body have to think about the livelong day that is so
absorbing that all one's bright thoughts, and one's most whimsical
sallies, pass without notice? Should I see her once move a muscle of
her very plain, doggedly inexpressive, provokingly composed phiz, I
should jump up and cry, "Bo!" with surprise.
She vanishes several hours at a time, and I hear her humming to
herself, sometimes in one room, sometimes in another. I wish I knew
how she amuses herself, for I find self-amusement the hardest drudgery
I ever tried. I could stamp, I am so impatient of doing nothing but
lounge about; I am as snappish as a chained cur, as cross as a caged
bear.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127