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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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“What’s that?” said St. Clare, who just then entered with some fruit he had been out to get for her. “Papa, I just want aunty to cut off some of my hair;- there’s too much of it, and it makes my head hot. Besides, I want to give some of it away.” Miss Ophelia came, with her scissors. “Take care,- don’t spoil the looks of it!” said her father; “cut underneath, where it won’t show. Eva’s curls are my pride.” “O, papa!” said Eva, sadly. “Yes, and I want them kept handsome against the time I take you up to your uncle’s plantation, to see Cousin Henrique,” said St. Clare, in a gay tone. “I shall never go there, papa;- I am going to a better country. O, do believe me! Don’t you see, papa, that I get weaker, every day?” “Why do you insist that I shall believe such a cruel thing, Eva?” said her fa- ther. “Only because it is true, papa; and if you will believe it now, perhaps you will get to feel about it as I do.” St. Clare closed his lips, and stood gloomily eyeing the long, beautiful curls, which, as they were separated from the child’s head, were laid, one by one, in her lap. She raised them up, looked earnestly at them, twined them around her thin fingers, and looked, from time to time, anxiously at her father. |
