"Yes, auntie."
"What's that over there?"
"Twee."
"Say tree, not twee."
"Tree."
"Now look at me. Put that wretched doll down.... Now.... That's right. Now tell me what you've been doing this morning."
"We had bweakfast—nurse said I—(long pause for breath)—was dood girl; Auntie Vi'let came; I dwew with my pencil."
"Say 'drew,' not 'dwew.'"
"Drew."
All this was very exhausting to Aunt Emily. She was no nearer the child's heart.... Angelina maintained an impenetrable reserve. Old maids have much time amongst the unsatisfied and sterile monotonies of their life—this is only true of some old maids; there are very delightful ones—to devote to fancies and microscopic imitations. It was astonishing now how largely in Miss Emily Braid's life loomed the figure of Rose, the rag doll.