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137
The Solitary Summer
·
Elizabeth Von Arnim
83
"Has
this
child
eaten
anything
to-day?"
"She
won't."
"Is
she
not
thirsty?"
"She
won't
drink
coffee
or
milk."
"I'll
send
her
something
she
may
like,
and
I
shall
send,
too,
for
the
doctor."
"I'll
not
give
her
his
stuff."
"Let
me
beg
you
to
do
as
he
tells
you."
"I'll
not
give
her
his
stuff."
"Was
it
absolutely
necessary
to
wash
to-day?"
"It's
the
day."
"My
good
woman,"
said
I
to
myself,
gazing
at
her
with
outward
blandness,
"I'd
like
exceedingly
to
tip
you
up
into
your
wash-tub
and
thump
you
as
thoroughly
as
you
are
thumping
those
unfortunate
clothes."
Aloud
I
said
in
flute-like
tones
of
conciliation,
"Good
afternoon."
"Good
afternoon,"
said
she
without
looking
up.
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