Explore "Moods" by Louisa May Alcott on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Come, Sylvia, it is nine o'clock! Little slug-a-bed, don't you mean to get up to-day? " said Miss Yule, bustling into her sister's room with the wide-awake appearance of one to whom sleep was a necessary evil, to be endured and gotten over as soon as possible.
"No, why should I? " And Sylvia turned her face away from the flood of light that poured into the room as Prue put aside the curtains and flung up the window.