United States or Sierra Leone ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Almost tenderly the Little Girl reached up and drew the White Linen Nurse's ear close down to her own snuggling lips. "Damned nervous!" she confided laconically. Quite against all intention the White Linen Nurse giggled. Floundering to recover her dignity she plunged into a new error. "Poor little dev ," she began. "Yes," sighed the Little Girl complacently. "That's just what the Parpa calls me."
Why, my Parpa never even looks at me unless I make him mad!" "S sh!" said the White Linen Nurse. "Why, you mustn't ever say a thing like that! Why, your Marma wouldn't like you to say a thing like that!" Jerking bumpily back against the White Linen Nurse's unprepared shoulder the Little Girl prodded a pallid finger-tip into the White Linen Nurse's vivid cheek.
With really shocking abruptness the old malicious smile came twittering back to her mouth. "But I'll get even with the Parpa yet!" she threatened joyously, reaching out with pliant fingers to count the buttons on the White Linen Nurse's dress. "Oh, I'll get even with the Parpa yet!" In the midst of the passionate assertion her rigid little mouth relaxed in a most mild and innocent yawn.
Why, just think how bad it would make your poor Parpa feel!" With instant sobriety the Little Girl stopped rocking, and stared perplexedly into the White Linen Nurse's shocked eyes. Her own little face was all wrinkled up with earnestness. "But the Parpa didn't like the Marma!" she explained painstakingly. "The Parpa never liked the Marma! That's why he doesn't like me!
"Oh, yes, 'the green, grassy club. Well, when I die," she faltered, "I'm going to die specially on some Sunday when there's a big golf game, so he'll just naturally have to give it up and stay home and amuse me and help arrange the flowers. The Parpa's crazy about flowers. So am I," she added broodingly. "I raised almost a geranium once. But the Parpa threw it out. It was a good geranium, too.
"Got um grave dug out yer." "O yer young yerlin!" said the other man, boxing Paul's ears, "yer don't know yer own father, don't yer? I'm yer parpa!" "You are not," cried Paul. "Where are you taking me? Where is the church, and the sulky, and old Bob?" The negro drove his knife so close to Paul's throat that the boy flinched and shrieked.
"And a little girl like you, with such bright red hair, oughtn't to wear purple!" she admonished with real concern. "Now whites and blues and little soft pussy-cat grays " Mumblingly through her finger-muzzled mouth the Little Girl burst into explanations again. "Oh, but when I wear gray," she persisted, "the Parpa never sees me!
"Ver' good boy," said Manuel, slipping out of his boots and disappearing into the black shadows of the lower bunk. "Expec' he make good man, Danny. I no see he is any so mad as your parpa he says. Eh, wha-at?" Dan chuckled, but the chuckle ended in a snore. It was thick weather outside, with a rising wind, and the elder men stretched their watches.
Word Of The Day