Читать книгу The Haven Children; or, Frolics at the Funny Old House on Funny Street онлайн

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“Soon as I have taken off my things, I will go and stay with the children and help amuse them.”

I think Daisy fairly meant to do this, but as she passed through the dining-room for a drink of ice-water, the cool sound of vine-leaves rustling called her attention to such a nice shaded window-ledge, where she might rest her book, enjoy her “Goldy” story, and watch the busy insects and the floating clouds, by turn. The nursery path of duty didn’t look very inviting now, besides, “wasn’t she very tired, scarcely rested indeed, after yesterday’s long journey?” Then Daisy uttered aloud these not very gracious words,—

“Well, I suppose I’ve got to go and be shut up with those three troublesome children; I wish they had been left at home.”

So Daisy slowly went up stairs. She thought she was conquering self, that troublesome little enemy, but that was her mistake. She had not calculated how powerful her little enemy was, nor all the weapons he could bring to defend himself. She had, it is true, made a slight thrust at him when she said,—