Читать книгу The Daughter of a Soldier: A Colleen of South Ireland онлайн

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Well, this was the longest day of the year. Maureen on her next birthday would be fourteen years of age. She had earned her rest under the tall trees, for had she not picked the peas and shelled them, and had she not gathered the strawberries and removed their stalks? And had she not beaten up a great bowl of whipped cream to go with the said strawberries?

By-and-by Dominic came whistling along. He was accompanied by Denis, who had hoisted Kitty on his shoulder. Kitty was the baby of the family. She was a blue-eyed, fair-haired little girl, decidedly pretty and with a look at times—a look which came and went—of the Reverend Patrick O'Brien on her sweet, funny, jolly sort of face.

"Hullo," suddenly cried Dominic. He stood still and stared at Maureen. "Puss, whatever are you idling for?"

"I'm not idling—I'm resting."

"Resting? Whatever have you to be tired about?"

It seemed to Maureen at that moment that the sun went behind a cloud and that the fear at her heart grew greater and more tremendous. It was a large fear, and it pressed on her like a stone. She did not want to lie still any longer.