Her passion had slightly cooled by the time she reached the gate, and
giving up her first intention of passing through into the road beyond,
she turned into an alley bordered by evergreens which would screen her
from view from the house, and there paced back and forth, muttering
angrily to herself between her shut teeth,
"I hate him, so I do! the old tyrant! He's no business to give me such
long, hard lessons and then scold because I don't recite perfectly."
Here conscience reminded her that she could easily have mastered her task
if her time had not been wasted over a story-book.
"It's a pity if I can't have the pleasure of reading a story once in a
while," she said in reply; "and I'm not going to give up doing it either
for him or anybody else. He reads stories himself; and if it's bad, it's
worse for grown folks than for children. Oh, how I do wish I was grown up
and could do just as I please!"
Then came to mind her father's assurance that even grown people could not
always follow their own inclinations; also his expressions of deep
gratitude to Mr.
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