Explore "Dora" by Johanna Spyri on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE time seemed to fly for everybody in the Birkenfeld household, as well as the little neighboring cottage, and all the inmates would exclaim from time to time, "Oh, is another week really gone? " or "How can it be Sunday again?"
For everybody, but especially for Dora, the days passed so pleasantly that they seemed only half as long as those in Karlsruhe. Every night, when going to bed, she regretted having to lose so much precious time in sleep, and she would have been delighted to sit all night at the piano while the others slept, to practise her little pieces.