Presiding spirit here to-day,
Dost lead the revels of the May,
And this is thy dominion.
w. wordsworth.
“DOLORÈS had a tame bird called ‘Piripe,’ you know,” said Clare one day to the children.
“She brought him up by hand, and when he died she was miserable. She’s got a long poem that a man called Skelton wrote long ago when English was spelt strangely. It is full of pretty phrases, and it has got a long list of birds’ names; if you’ll listen, she’ll read it to you, she says.”
Clare spoke eagerly. But she had no need to call the children twice. They gather round any one willingly enough who will read to them.
Dolorès looked very small and sad as she sat on a low stool, about to commence reading. There is something you will see, in the manner her little bodice is crossed, that is curiously at one with that lift in her eyebrow.
