Explore "Cat and Dog Stories" by Walter Crane on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
IT was a rainy November afternoon, and floods of water poured down from the skies, growing hourly in strength. "Just as if the heaven were weeping to find that its tears grew so plentiful," I thought. I know that it is sometimes the case with me. When I am naughty and am scolded, I begin to cry just a little; but my tears flow quicker and quicker as I think how shameful it is for a great girl like me to be weeping, and the more ashamed I become, the more I cry. But I must not go on like this, or my story will turn out a tearful one, and I shall really end by weeping myself.
Well, it was a rainy day, raining so hard that I could not go out on the lawn to play; and I was tired of amusing myself with my soft ball indoors. I was sitting with my head resting between my hands, trying to think of some new game, when suddenly the door swung open, and in walked a crooked old woman, trudging towards me on her crooked staff.