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The Story of Bawn

Chapter 3 THE CREAMERY

Word Count: 1488    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

strange that my grandparents should have permitted me to go, I must explain how it was that Miss Ch

n the side of the river Clody, overlooking the falls. She had been an orphan almost fr

ul grey eyes and a deal of black, silken hair, and she was unusually tall. Even the weather, when it had roughened and tanned her complexion, had but given her a new charm to my mi

antage, unless she happened to be riding when she wore a dark grey habit. But I have seen her very splendi

o foster and protect something, a cousin of hers, a peevish, exacting

could possibly be done for an invalid her lot had great alleviations, but she seemed to take it as an offence that my godmother should be so str

ant flattering way

that I could scream when a harsh voice falls on my ear. Your voice is soft and sweet, but have you ever noticed Mary's? It is

is such assurance in her tread. I should think it would be mo

I remember that once she had been tittle-tattling as usual, and had said something more indefens

Joan burst into tears she stooped and shook up her pillows and soothed her in a way that was tender without being attached

to anything that has hur

ce with my grandparents. She brought into their shut-up lives, indeed, the open air and the ways of other folk, without which I think we s

ant which has lived without the light,"

pale," my grandmother said, l

ought to look no paler than this apple-blossom I am wearing, which at all events dreams of rose-colour. You keep

tily. "We are too old to live without something young

ice and eyes. And to be sure I was happy, if it we

tell you what, Lady St. Leger, you had better let Bawn come and learn butter-making with me at the Creamery. I am going to take a course of lessons and then I can make my own butt

eger needed so much of my time. It was a pretty place, with white wal

r day, and she gave me tea in her dairy. It is coming i

to the Creamery, Bawn?

e Lady Ardaragh. The dairy is as pretty as ever, but it wants washing

out fine ladies liking to play dairymaids. So it was settled I should go to the Creamery; and Bri

dare say I did look as though I played at work, for I caught sight of myself in the Venetian mirror on the wall of my grandmother's b

re covered with mother-of-pearl which g

spotless muslin and the mushroom hat with a wreath of pink roses. My grandmother said somethin

of gold and white. The thorn-trees were all in bloom, and the banks were covered with the white stitchwor

learn her business. Or it might be where there was no girl, and the vanithee-that is to say, the good woman-did her work in her own way, not half pressing the water out of the butter, so that it became rancid

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