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Updated: May 12, 2025
Skratdj, as he walked towards the door. "They would make a remarkable difference to me, I know;" and with a jocular air Mr. Skratdj departed, and Mrs. Skratdj had the rest of the anecdote her own way. The Spirit of Contradiction finds a place in most nurseries, though to a very varying degree in different ones.
The heel of the boot caught Snap on the back and sent him squealing to the kitchen. And he never barked at that gentleman again. If the gentleman disapproved of Snap's conduct, he still less liked the continual snapping of the Skratdj family themselves. He was an old friend of Mr. and Mrs.
The example and admonitions of elder children are a powerful instrument of nursery discipline, and before long there was not a "sharp tongue" among all the little Skratdjs. But I doubt if the parents ever were cured. I don't know if they heard the story. Besides, bad habits are not easily cured when one is old. I fear Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj have yet got to dance with the Dragons. By Mrs. E. M. Field
But at the bottom of the stairs he lingered again, and was meditating how to return with most credit to his dignity, when Polly's face appeared through the banisters, and Polly's sharp tongue goaded him on. "Ah! I see you. You're stopping. You daren't go." "I dare," said Harry; and at last he went. As he turned the handle of the door, Mr. Skratdj turned round. "Please, papa " Harry began.
"I told Jemima to look at the weathercock," murmured Mrs. Skratdj. "I don't care a fig for Jemima," said her husband. On another occasion Mrs. Skratdj and a lady friend were conversing. * "We met him at the Smith's a gentlemanlike, agreeable man, about forty," said Mrs. Skratdj, in reference to some matter interesting to both ladies. "Not a day over thirty-five," said Mr.
"Then you did call him sneaking," said Mr. Skratdj. "And you're a very naughty, ill-mannered little girl. You're getting very troublesome, Polly, and I shall have to send you to school, where you'll be kept in order. Go where your brother wishes at once." For Polly and her brother had reached an age when it was convenient, if possible, to throw the blame of all nursery differences on Polly.
So they all three walked home in the twilight, and the next day Hulda set out again with her parents to return to the old castle in Norway. As for the fairy, she was happy from that day in the possession of her wand; but the little golden bird folded its wings and never sang any songs again. By Juliana Horatia Ewing Once upon a time there lived a certain family of the name of Skratdj.
Skratdj had especially announced that morning that he did not wish to be disturbed, and though he was a favorite, Harry had no desire to invade the dining-room at this crisis. So he returned to the nursery, and said, with a magnanimous air, "I don't want to get you into a scrape, Polly. If you'll beg my pardon I won't go."
Skratdj, from behind his newspaper. "Why, my dear William, his hair's gray," said Mrs. Skratdj. "Plenty of men are gray at thirty," said Mr. Skratdj. "I knew a man who was gray at twenty-five." "Well, forty or thirty-five, it doesn't much matter," said Mrs. Skratdj, about to resume her narration. "Five years matters a good deal to most people at thirty-five," said Mr.
But even if Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj had ever thought of teaching all this to their children, it must be confessed that the lesson would not have come with a good grace from either of them, since they snapped and snarled between themselves as much or more than their children in the nursery. The two elders were the leaders in the nursery squabbles.
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