[A Flat Iron for a Farthing by Juliana Horatia Ewing]@TWC D-Link bookA Flat Iron for a Farthing CHAPTER II 6/8
Moreover it was a reign of wholesomeness, both for body and mind.
She did not give me cheese and beer from her own supper when she was in a good temper, nor pound my unfortunate head with her knuckles if I displeased her.
She was strict in the maintenance of a certain old-fashioned nursery etiquette, which obliged me to put away my chair after meals, fold my clothes at bedtime, put away my toys when I had done with them, say "please," "thank you," grace before and after meals, prayers night and morning, a hymn in bed, and the Church Catechism on Sunday.
She snubbed the maids who alluded in my presence to things I could not or should not understand, and she directed her own conversation to me, on matters suitable to my age, instead of talking over my childish head to her gossips.
The stories of horror and crime, the fore-doomed babies, the murders, the mysterious whispered communications faded from my untroubled brain.
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