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Lucy Elliott in the bathing machine, slipping from the cloak of the towel, slender and straight; sea water gluing red weeds of hair to her white skin. Sweet eyes looking towards you in the evening at sewing-time. "Will you sit with me at sewing?" "I'm sitting with Rose Godwin." Sudden sweetness; sudden trouble; grey eyes dark and angry behind sudden tears.
Daddy's so much more convincible. But it's no use now; Daddy never goes back on Aunt Julia." Patricia slipped from the fence. "I rather think you and I'd better go down to the back meadow to talk things over; it's getting pretty near sewing-time." Out in the meadow, flat on her back in the long grass, Patricia set herself to the task of solving this perplexing situation.
She did not think much about that part of it, but unconsciously the quiet sewing-time had its influence on her, and that little 'conscience hour, as she sometimes called it, helped her very much. One day she said to herself as she took up her work, 'Now I'll puzzle Aunt Pen.
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