Explore "Peterkin" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE carriage was standing waiting at our own house when we got there. And there was some bustle going on, for the front door was not shut, and we could see into the hall, which of course was brightly lighted up.
Papa was there, speaking to some one; he had his hat on, as if he was just coming out again. And -- yes -- it was Drew he was speaking to, and James too, I think -- but behind them was poor mamma, looking so dreadfully unhappy. It did make me want to shake Peterkin again.