Explore "Scruts" by Max Beerbohm on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I.
Emily Wrackgarth stirred the Christmas pudding till her right arm began to ache. But she did not cease for that. She stirred on till her right arm grew so numb that it might have been the right arm of some girl at the other end of Bursley. And yet something deep down in her whispered "It is _your_ right arm! And you can do what you like with it!"