Explore "Sweet Content" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The short winters day was already closing in when the carriage stopped at our own door. I was crouched up in one corner, _perfectly_ miserable, the fur rug was in a heap at my feet -- when I glanced at it, and thought of how papa had tucked it round me that very afternoon, I felt as if I _could_ not bear it. As I got out and entered the hall, where the light was dim, I saw some one standing at the drawing-room door. It was mamma waiting for me; she had heard the carriage stopping.
"Connie, is that you? " she said. "Is papa there?"