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Alcott, Louisa May, 1832-1888

"Work: a Story of Experience"


"Yes, I can do that, and shall like it very much," she said, burying
her nose in the mass of sweetness before her, and feeling as if her
new situation grew pleasanter every minute.
"Here is the apron my mother uses, that bit of silk will soon be
spoilt, for the flowers are wet," and David gravely offered her a
large checked pinafore.
Christie could not help laughing as she put it on: all this was so
different from the imaginary picture she had made. She was
disappointed, and yet she began to feel as if the simple truth was
better than the sentimental fiction; and glanced up at David
involuntarily to see if there were any traces of interesting woe
about him.
But he was looking at her with the steady, straight-forward look
which she liked so much, yet could not meet just yet; and all she
saw was that he was smiling also with an indulgent expression as if
she was a little girl whom he was trying to amuse.
"Make a few, and I'll be back directly when I have attended to
another order," and he went away thinking Christie's face was very
like the pansies they had been talking about,--one of the sombre
ones with a bright touch of gold deep down in the heart, for thin
and pale as the face was, it lighted up at a kind word, and all the
sadness vanished out of the anxious eyes when the frank laugh came.


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