I trust that she will not misunderstand me. “Who decorated the school like this?” She asked, peering up at the multicolored banners that hung everywhere. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. The boat's sure to run foul o' the bridge; and if she 'scapes stavin' above, she'll be swamped to a sartainty below. Everything, Miss Miniver said, was “working up,” everything was “coming on”—the Higher Thought, the Simple Life, Socialism, Humanitarianism, it was all the same really. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around.
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