File:Our mutual friend (1895) (14777941761).jpg

Identifier: ourmutualfriend00dick (find matches)
Title: Our mutual friend
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Dickens, Charles, 1837-1896, ed
Subjects: Inheritance and succession Social classes Poor families Deception
Publisher: New York, London, Macmillan
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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ve asked him whetherthey were given the child in compensation for her losses. So I think, Lizzie, when they come to me. And the birds Ihear! Oh ! cried the little creature, holding out her hand andlooking upward, how they sing ! There was something in the face and action for the moment quiteinspired and beautiful. Then the chin dropped musingly upon thehand again. I dare say my birds sing better than other birds, and myflowers smell better than other flowers. For when I was a littlechild, in a tone as though it were ages ago, the children that Iused to see early in the morning were very different from anyothers that I ever saw. They were not like me: they were notchilled, anxious, ragged, or beaten; they were never in pain. Theywere not like the children of the neighbours; they never made metremble all over, by setting up shrill noises, and they never mockedme. Such numbers of them, too ! All in white dresses, and withsomething shining on the borders, and on their heads, that I have Q
Text Appearing After Image:
THE PERSON OF THE HOUSE AND THE BAD CHILD. OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 227 never been able to imitate with my work, though I know it so well.They used to come clown in long bright slanting rows, and sayall together, Who is this in pain ! Who is this in pain ! When Itold them who it was, they answered, Come and play with us !When I said, I never play ! I cant play ! they swept about meand took me up, and made me light. Then it was all deliciousease and rest till they laid me down, and said, all together, Havepatience, and we will come again. Whenever they came back, Iused to know they were coming before I saw the long bright rows,by hearing them ask, all together a long way off, Who is this inpain! Who is this in pain ! And I used to cry out, 0 myblessed children, its poor me. Have pity on me. Take me upand make me light! By degrees, as she progressed in this remembrance, the handwas raised, the late ecstatic look returned, and she became quitebeautiful. Having so paused for a moment, silent, w

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