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Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924

"The Head of the House of Coombe"

They were both
big and powerful, and she was nothing. But, out of the wonders
she had begun to know, there had risen in her before almost inert
little being a certain stirring. For a brief period she had learned
happiness and love and woe, and, this evening, inchoate rebellion
against an enemy. Andrews led by the hand up the narrow, top-story
staircase something she had never led before. She was quite unaware
of this and, as she mounted each step, her temper mounted also,
and it was the temper of an incensed personal vanity abnormally
strong in this particular woman. When they were inside the Nursery
and the door was shut, she led Robin to the middle of the small
and gloomy room and released her hand.
"Now, my lady," she said. "I'm going to pay you out for disgracing
me before everybody in the drawing-room." She had taken the child
below stairs for a few minutes before bringing her up for the
night. She had stopped in the kitchen for something she wanted for
herself. She laid her belongings on a chest of drawers and turned
about.
"I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget," she said.
What happened next turned the woman quite sick with the shock of
amazement. The child had, in the past, been a soft puppet. She
had been automatic obedience and gentleness. Privately Andrews
had somewhat looked down on her lack of spirit, though it had been
her own best asset.


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