"
"On the contrary, Connie, I think I understand you almost as well as mamma.
But there isn't so much to understand yet, you know, as there will be."
Her merriment returned.
"Tell me what girls are like, then, or I shall sulk all day because you say
there isn't so much in me as in mamma."
"Well, I think, if the boys are like sparrows, the girls are like swallows.
Did you ever watch them before rain, Connie, skimming about over the lawn
as if it were water, low towards its surface, but never alighting? You
never see them grubbing after worms. Nothing less than things with wings
like themselves will satisfy them. They will be obliged to the earth only
for a little mud to build themselves nests with. For the rest, they live in
the air, and on the creatures of the air. And then, when they fancy the
air begins to be uncivil, sending little shoots of cold through their
warm feathers, they vanish. They won't stand it. They're off to a warmer
climate, and you never know till you find they're not there any more.
There, Connie!"
"I don't know, papa, whether you are making game of us or not. If you are
not, then I wish all you say were quite true of us.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151