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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » Red Rose and Tiger Lily; Or, In a Wider World by L. T. Meade (the two towers ebook .TXT) 📖

Book online «Red Rose and Tiger Lily; Or, In a Wider World by L. T. Meade (the two towers ebook .TXT) 📖». Author L. T. Meade



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if I could help it."

"No, father dear; of course not."

"You're a plucky young 'un," said her father admiringly. Boris and Kitty came close; the grooms and the horse-dealer also approached. There was a sort of ring round Nell and the colts.

"Please, father, may I give Robin his apple?" she asked. "He has earned it. May he have it?"

The Squire nodded.

"Of course he may," he said; then he turned to the horse dealer.

"My little girl is fond of these creatures," he said. "I hope you will have patience for a moment or two."

The man touched his hat respectfully.

"Certainly, sir," he answered, "as long as the young lady likes; there's no manner of hurry, and perhaps little miss would like to have another canter. I never see'd no one sit so bird-like on a horse—never, in the whole of my born days."

"Do you hear that, Nell?" said her father. "Would you like another canter? I didn't know you could ride bare-backed."

She smiled up at him, a perfectly brave smile; there were no tears in her eyes, although there were black shadows under them, and her face was as white as a little snowflake.

[Pg 30]

Robin munched his apple, and Joe came close to Nell and rubbed his head against her shoulder.

She fed him also, to his own great surprise, for he did not think that he had earned a morsel, and then, without a word, turned and walked out of the paddock.

Boris ran after her.

"I say, Nell!" he exclaimed, panting. "Would you like a white rat? I have four, and I—I'll give you one if you'll promise not to forget to feed it."

Nell stood still when Boris made this offer, and looked down into his ruddy, brown, sunburnt face. Boris had bright eyes, as round as two moons. The giving up of one of his white rats meant a great deal to him. Nell carefully weighed the value of the offer.

"No," she said at last in a deliberate tone. "I might forget to feed the rat, and I don't think I ever could love it; but thank you all the same, Boris."

"Don't mention it," said Boris, in his most polite tone; he was immensely relieved by Nell's declining his offer.

She walked slowly towards the house, and Boris turned to Kitty, who had followed him.

"I offered her a rat," he said; "but she wouldn't have it. Do you think she will be very bad for a bit?"

"Yes, I do," said Kitty. "She'll creep up into one of the lofts and burrow in the hay all by herself, and if she can have a right good cry perhaps she'll be better, but if she hasn't a cry, she'll fret awfully, and perhaps she'll turn sulky; but never mind about her now. I'm ever so glad she didn't take the rat. Let's run and feed them before we go to lessons."

"I wish there were no lessons," said Boris. "I hate them. I can't think what use they are. What [Pg 31]can it matter in a big world like this, crowded up with boys and girls and men and women, whether I can spell right or not? I don't mind, and I don't see why anyone else should bother."

"I like spelling," said Kitty, who had a very intelligent face. "If I were a man or an embryo man, which you are, Boris, I'd have ambition, and I'd try to get on. I'd like to walk over the heads of the other boys, if I were you, and to take their prizes from them, and to have father and mother looking on, and a lot of grand ladies and gentlemen all dressed in their best praising and cheering and bowing and smiling. But boys are no good in these days. It's girls who do everything. Now, do be quick and let's feed the rats."

"You talk such nonsense," said Boris. "You don't suppose that ladies and gentlemen care whether boys and girls spell words right or not, and what rubbish you do say about best clothes and smiling and bowing."

"I don't," said Kitty, crossly; "it's you who talk rubbish. You have never been to school, so you can't possibly tell. You ask Nan Thornton, and she'll soon tell you what's done at school. Oh dear, oh dear, I wish I were at Lavender House instead of doing my lessons with stupid Jane Macalister!"

"You talk very dis'pectful," said Boris.

"Do I? I don't care. Oh, I am glad you didn't part with the white rat!"

[Pg 32]

CHAPTER V. NOT MISSED.

Jane Macalister was the governess. She was old—at least the Lorrimers considered her old—she wore spectacles, and her hair was slightly tinged with grey. She had a queer mixture of qualities. She was affectionate and narrow; she was devoted to her pupils, and thought she could best show her devotion by an unceasing round of discipline. Fortunately, both for her and the little Lorrimers, this discipline never extended beyond the hours devoted to lessons. It never showed its stern visage in play hours, nor at meals, nor at night, nor on half holidays, nor on Sundays. During all these times, Jane was the intelligent and much belaboured companion. She was at everyone's beck and call. She was to be found here, there, and everywhere—darning the rent in Molly's frock, or helping Nora with her drawing, or trying to find a story-book for Nell which she had not already read at least six times, or healing the small squabbles with which Boris and Kitty helped to beguile the weary hours. Mrs. Lorrimer consulted her with regard to the cook and the servants generally. The Squire would shout to her to spare him a quarter of an hour in the study to see if he had totted up his accounts right. In short, Jane Macalister was as much part and parcel of the Lorrimer household as if she were really one of themselves. She was by no means educated up to the standard of the latter half of the nineteenth century, but what she did know, [Pg 33]she knew thoroughly. She was methodical and helpful. The kind of person whom Mrs. Lorrimer was fond of quoting as invaluable. The children, one and all, loved her as a matter of course, but, in school hours, their love was certainly mingled with awe. In school hours, Jane allowed no relaxing of the iron rod.

Kitty and Boris, having just heard the dismal sound of the schoolroom bell, started from their fascinating occupation of feeding the white rats and ran as fast as their small feet could carry them in the direction of the house. They went in by a side entrance, and with panting breath and hot little steps began to mount the spiral staircase which led to the schoolroom in the tower. They were late already, and they knew that they could not possibly escape bad marks for unpunctuality. They pushed open the green baize door which admitted them to the sanctum of learning and came in. All the other children whom Miss Macalister taught were already in the room. Kitty and Boris were the sole delinquents—the only ones in disgrace; even Elinor was present. Their faces fell when they saw her. They had built great hopes on having at least Elinor's company in their disgrace. The swift thought had darted through both their minds that she would be safe to be extra naughty that morning, and in consequence would divert some of the storm of Jane Macalister's wrath from their devoted heads; but no, there she sat in her accustomed place, her hymn book open on her knee, marks of tears on her cheeks, it is true, but in all other respects she looked a provokingly model Elinor.

It was too bad; Kitty made a face at her across [Pg 34]the schoolroom, and even Boris gave her a reproachful glance.

Jane Macalister fixed two awful spectacled eyes upon the culprits, and, scarlet blushes tingling in their cheeks, they took possession of their vacant chairs.

The children all sang their usual hymn, although Elinor's voice was a little husky and Boris held his book upside down.

"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all."

"I wonder if He really made that dreadful horsey man," thought Nell, as she looked out of the window.

Boris smothered a sigh as he reflected again over the problem which had often before puzzled his small head—Why God, when he made everything so beautiful, had forgotten to give Jane Macalister a beautiful temper in school hours?

The singing was followed by the Bible reading, and then lessons began. Molly and Nora acquitted themselves admirably, as was their wont—Nell's dark grey eyes grew full of interest as she read the fascinating story of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold" in her history book—Kitty worked at her sums with fierce persistence and tried to fancy herself at boarding-school, going up rapidly to the top of her class, while Boris made more mistakes than ever over his dictation, and inked his fingers unmercifully.

"What was the use of fussing over such a stupid, useless thing as spelling?" This was his thought of thoughts.

The day was a warm one. Jane Macalister was [Pg 35]icily cold, however, as unapproachable as an iceberg. Boris watched her with anxiety. He knew well that there was no chance for him and Kitty; they would both be punished for being late for prayers.

Oh, dear, oh, dear; why was Jane so unbeautiful, so unapproachable in school hours?

"I know she'll keep Kitty and me in during the whole of the play hour," he muttered to himself. "I'm certain of it, because the tip of her nose is getting red; that's a sign that she's worried, and when she's worried she's twice as bad as she is at any other time."

"What noise is that? Oh!—I say—Miss Macalister——"

Jane Macalister was always spoken to in this correct fashion during school hours.

"I say, there's a visitor!" burst from the eager lips of the little boy.

He started to his feet as he spoke, upsetting the ink-pot over his own copybook and also over Kitty's white-frilled pinafore.

"Boris, you are incorrigible!" exclaimed Jane. "You lose all your conduct marks for the week, and must stay indoors for an hour and learn a piece of poetry after lessons."

Boris got very red and tried to smile. The blow had fallen, so he wasn't going to whimper over it. He would stand up to his punishment like a man. He meant to be a soldier some day, and felt exactly now as if he were facing the guns. He met Elinor's full, troubled grey eyes, and seated himself slowly once more in his chair.

The steps had come nearer, the schoolroom door was burst open, and Nan Thornton rushed in.

[Pg 36]

"Here I am," she said. "I have come to torment you, Miss Macalister, and to beg off lessons at once. How do you do, children? How are you, Kitty? How are you, Boris? How do you do, Nell? Molly and Nora, I'll kiss you when I can get breath. Oh, what a climb those stairs are! Why do you have lessons in the tower? All the same, it's lovely when you are here. What a view! What a darling, darling, heavenly, scrumptious, ripping view. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I am out of breath. Jane, aren't you glad to see me? Aren't you glad to know that all the children are to have a holiday immediately? Shut up your books, young 'uns, and let's be off. You don't mind, do you, Jane?"

Certainly Jane Macalister did mind. The icy expression grew more marked on her face. Boris gave her a glance, felt that he was very close to the guns, and lowered his eyes. Nan began dancing about the room. Nan was in white—white hat, white frock. Her fluffy golden hair surrounded her like a cloud. Boris felt that she was something like a very naughty and very beautiful angel. Why was she tempting them all when Jane Macalister was like ice?

"I think, Nan," said Miss Macalister—"(how do you do, my dear? Of course I'm glad to see you)—I think I must ask you to leave the schoolroom for the present. Recess will be at half-past eleven, and then you can talk to all the children except Boris, who I grieve to say will have to undergo punishment. As to holidays, the summer holidays will begin in a fortnight, until then I cannot permit any such indulgence. Go away, Nan, for the present. Molly, I can attend to your German now. Bring your exercise book with the grammar and history."

[Pg 37]

Nan was not accustomed to being vanquished,

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