Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 29, 2025
I hope she'll think us pretty;" and though Lota told her that little girls ought not to mind about being pretty if only they obey their mammas and are good, the sentiment was so natural that she really hadn't the heart to scold the child much. The baby-house was swept and garnished for the occasion, a fresh batch of rose-cakes was made, and a general air of festivity pervaded the premises.
However that may be, practice is more than theory, and I stipulate for milk for all purposes from the lowest lota that is, milk which is warranted to yield butter. If it will not stand that test, I reject it. Gopal wonders at my extravagance, but consents. The milk is good and the butter from it plentiful.
So, on this occasion, when Clarissa Green snatched at the rose-cakes which formed the staple of the feast, Lota looked very sharply at Stella, and said, "Don't let me ever see you do so, Stella, or I shall have to slap your little hands." Stella heeded the warning, and sat upright as a poker and perfectly still. Clarissa was perhaps not so much to blame, for the rose-cakes were delicious.
"Here, husband, is the lota of water: Here, husband, is the tooth stick; Come, and wash your hands: If you are angry with me Take me back to my father and mother." But Sahde Goala was ploughing at the head of his men and paid no attention to her: then she sang again: "Seven hundred labourers And twenty hundred women labourers, You are causing to die of thirst."
Nursey never said "Miss Charlotte" except on the most solemn occasions, so Lota knew that she was very vexed. She should have been cast down by this, but somehow she was not. "But I'm not discouraged," she replied. "I'm not discouraged a bit! And the birds aren't discouraged! They sang all the while I was waltzing in the mud-puddle, Nursey; I heard 'em!" Nursey gave it up.
She put her hand in and drew one out, feeling guilty, for one of Nursey's chief maxims was, "Never touch matches, Lady Bird; remember what I say, never!" "If Nursey knew about Stella's having the measles she'd say different," she soliloquized. There was a good-sized bit of brown paper in the garden-house. Lota rolled it up, laid it near the bedside, lit the edge, and carefully blew out the match.
The speckled frock was outgrown long ago, but the name still clung to Lota, and every one called her by it except Grandmamma, who said "Charlotte," sighing as she spoke, and Papa, whose letters always began, "My darling little Lota." Papa had been away so long now that Lota would quite have forgotten him had it not been for these letters which came regularly every month.
The Lota coals, though black and dirty beyond description, burn up very quickly, and in about an hour we were steaming merrily along, the Arabian horseshoe on our bowsprit's end being now pointed direct for the island of Tahiti, instead of for wherever the wind chose to blow us. Thursday, November 9th. A flat calm at 6 a.m.; a very light fair wind at 9 a.m.
While the horses were being changed, we walked down to the little wooden pier, on the sea-shore, and saw the 'Sunbeam' just coming out of Lota Bay. Drawn up by the side of the pier was a picturesque-looking market-boat, full of many sorts of vegetables, and little piles of sea-eggs, with their spines removed, and neatly tied up with rushes in parcels of three.
She bent down to fill her pot but the pot would not fill though the water rose higher and higher; then she sang: "The water has risen, brother, And wetted my ankle, brother, But still the lota in my hand Will not sink below the surface." But the water rose to her knees and the pot would not fill, and she sang:
Word Of The Day
Others Looking