natives to turn piano-fortenatives to turn piano-forte by saying, I believe now, Mrs. Jellyby, you ‟
have received as many as from one hundred and fifty to two hundred
letters respecting Africa in a single day, have you not?” or, If my memory ‟
does not deceive me, Mrs. Jellyby, you once mentioned that you had sent
off five thousand circulars from one post-office at one time?”—always
repeating Mrs. Jellyby’s answer to us like an interpreter. During the
whole evening, Mr. Jellyby sat in a corner with his head against the wall
as if he were subject to low spirits. It seemed that he had several times
opened his mouth when alone with Richard after dinner, as if he had
something on his mind, but had always shut it again, to Richard’s
extreme confusion, without saying anything.
Mrs. Jellyby, sitting in quite a nest of waste paper, drank coffee all the
evening and dictated at intervals to her eldest daughter. She also held a
discussion with Mr. Quale, of which the subject seemed to be—if I
understood it—the brotherhood of humanity, and gave utterance to
some beautiful sentiments. I was not so attentive an auditor as I might
have wished to be, however, for Peepy and the other children came
flocking about Ada and me in a corner of the drawing-room to ask for
another story; so we sat down among them and told them in whispers
‟Puss in Boots” and I don’t know what else until Mrs. Jellyby, accidentally
remembering them, sent them to bed. As Peepy cried for me to take him
to bed, I carried him upstairs, where the young woman with the flannel
bandage charged into the midst of the little family like a dragon and
overturned them into cribs.
After that I occupied myself in making our room a little tidy and in
coaxing a very cross fire that had been lighted to burn, which at last it
did, quite brightly. On my return downstairs, I felt that Mrs. Jellyby
looked down upon me rather for being so frivolous, and I was sorry for
it, though at the same time I knew that I had no higher pretensions.
It was nearly midnight before we found an opportunity of going to by saying, I believe now, Mrs. Jellyby, you ‟
have received as many as from one hundred and fifty to two hundred
letters respecting Africa in a single day, have you not?” or, If my memory ‟
does not deceive me, Mrs. Jellyby, you once mentioned that you had sent
off five thousand circulars from one post-office at one time?”—always
repeating Mrs. Jellyby’s answer to us like an interpreter. During the
whole evening, Mr. Jellyby sat in a corner with his head against the wall
as if he were subject to low spirits. It seemed that he had several times
opened his mouth when alone with Richard after dinner, as if he had
something on his mind, but had always shut it again, to Richard’s
extreme confusion, without saying anything.
Mrs. Jellyby, sitting in quite a nest of waste paper, drank coffee all the
evening and dictated at intervals to her eldest daughter. She also held a
discussion with Mr. Quale, of which the subject seemed to be—if I
understood it—the brotherhood of humanity, and gave utterance to
some beautiful sentiments. I was not so attentive an auditor as I might
have wished to be, however, for Peepy and the other children came
flocking about Ada and me in a corner of the drawing-room to ask for
another story; so we sat down among them and told them in whispers
‟Puss in Boots” and I don’t know what else until Mrs. Jellyby, accidentally
remembering them, sent them to bed. As Peepy cried for me to take him
to bed, I carried him upstairs, where the young woman with the flannel
bandage charged into the midst of the little family like a dragon and
overturned them into cribs.
After that I occupied myself in making our room a little tidy and in
coaxing a very cross fire that had been lighted to burn, which at last it
did, quite brightly. On my return downstairs, I felt that Mrs. Jellyby
looked down upon me rather for being so frivolous, and I was sorry for
it, though at the same time I knew that I had no higher pretensions.
It was nearly midnight before we found an opportunity of going to
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