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Updated: May 23, 2025
I will not write a sonnet, Singing their beauty as a poet might do: I just detest those on Aunt Nipson's bonnet, Because they are like her, all gray and blue, Dusty and pinched, and fastened on askew! And as for heaven's own buttercups and daisies, I am not good enough to sing their praises. Nobody knew who wrote this verse. Katy suspected Louisa, and Rose suspected Katy.
The vacation does not open until after study-hour to-night, and it will then be too late for you to begin." "Very well, ma'am," said Clover, demurely. But the minute Mrs. Nipson's back was turned, she gave a jump, and rushed into the school-room. "O girls," she cried, "what do you think? Both the boxes are for Katy and me!" "Both!" cried a disappointed chorus. "Yes, both. Nipson said so.
"I don't know what's the matter; I don't like her half so much as I did." The truth was, that Mrs. Florence had secretly determined to give up her connection with the school at midsummer; and, regarding it now rather as Mrs. Nipson's school than her own, she took no pains to study character or mete out justice carefully among scholars with whom she was not likely to have much to do.
I like that truth about a good dinner 'availing' to secure peace, and the advice to 'caress' your bear when he is at his crossest. Ned never does issue 'decrees, though, I fancy; and on the whole, Katy, I don't believe Mrs. Nipson's present is going to be any particular comfort in your future trials. Do read something else to take the taste out of our mouths. We will listen in 'all subjection."
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