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Brazil, Angela, 1868-1947

"Monitress Merle"


"Clive's only fooling!" she remonstrated.
"I know; and so am I! Here we are--Keltic words in use in the English
language. You can squint over my shoulder if you like."
The five minutes lengthened out till Mrs. Ramsay came herself and put a
finish to the preparation.
"It's silly to overdo it. You'll only have headaches to-morrow and be
able to remember nothing. Come along to the drawing-room and sing to
Father."
"Yes, Mummie darling, I'm just strapping up my books. There, I'll leave
them here on the hall-table. I promise you I won't take them upstairs.
Hello! Here's my jersey! I was hunting for it everywhere after tea and
couldn't find it. It feels wet! How funny! Has anybody been out in it?"
"Give it to Alice and ask her to put it by the kitchen fire to dry.
Father wants to hear that Devon folksong you're learning. It will do you
good to have a little music after such hard brain-work."
Merle marched into school next morning joking about her fortune. She told
the girls what the oracle had said, and how she had ground up those
particular bits of information.


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