"
"What an artless couple," said Janet; "well I never! how you can have
the face to pretend so, I don't know! Well, you do beat all!'
"A suspicious parent," sais I, "Miss, as I said before, makes an
artful child. I never knew what guile was before that. Well, one
night; oh dear, it makes my heart ache to think of it, it was the last
we ever spent together. Flora was starching muslins, mother had seen
me off to my room, and then went to hers, when down I crept in my
stockin feet as usual, puts a chair into the chimney corner, and we
sat down and repeated our lessons. When we came to the word Pog
(kiss), I always used to forget it; and it's very odd, for it's the
most beautiful one in the language. We soon lost all caution, and it
sounded so loud and sharp it started mother; and before we knew where
we were, we heard her enter the parlour which was next to us. In an
instant I was off and behind the entry door, and Flora was up and at
work. Just then the old lady came in as softly as possible, and stood
and surveyed the room all round. I could see her through the crack of
the door, she actually seemed disappointed at not finding me there.
"'What noise was that I heard, Flora?' she said, speakin' as mild as
if she was actilly afraid to wake the cat up.
"Flora lifted the centre of the muslin she was starching with one
hand, and makin' a hollow under it in the palm of the other, she held
it close up to the old woman's face, and clapped it; and it made the
very identical sound of the smack she had heard, and the dear child
repeated it in quick succession several times.
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