And even her mother and Constance had an
instinctive idea that that face was, at any rate, a partial excuse
for her asperity.
"Well," said Constance, "if you won't, I do believe I shall ask
mother if she will."
Sophia, bending over her books, made no answer. But the top of her
head said: "This has no interest for me whatever."
Constance left the room, and in a moment returned with her mother.
"Sophia," said her mother, with gay excitement, "you might go and
sit with your father for a bit while Constance and I just run up
to the playground to see the elephant. You can work just as well
in there as here. Your father's asleep."
"Oh, very, well!" Sophia agreed haughtily. "Whatever is all this
fuss about an elephant? Anyhow, it'll be quieter in your room. The
noise here is splitting." She gave a supercilious glance into the
Square as she languidly rose.
It was the morning of the third day of Bursley Wakes; not the
modern finicking and respectable, but an orgiastic carnival, gross
in all its manifestations of joy. The whole centre of the town was
given over to the furious pleasures of the people. Most of the
Square was occupied by Wombwell's Menagerie, in a vast oblong
tent, whose raging beasts roared and growled day and night.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133