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Diffstat (limited to '40448-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 40448-0.txt | 9 |
1 files changed, 5 insertions, 4 deletions
diff --git a/40448-0.txt b/40448-0.txt index e6f5607..e15775d 100644 --- a/40448-0.txt +++ b/40448-0.txt @@ -151,7 +151,7 @@ flowers, just like little untidy twisted pansies. The Elf reminds me that I am to tell you about the daffodils. I had forgotten all about them. Really, you know it is the Imp and the Elf who are writing this book. If it were not for them I should be forgetting -nearly everything. There are such a lot of things to remember In the +nearly everything. There are such a lot of things to remember. In the wood where we find the coloured primroses there are great banks of daffodils under the green larches. They are just like bright yellow trumpets growing out of pale yellow stars. The Imp says they are the @@ -725,8 +725,9 @@ cakes. We have several good blackberry walks. One of them takes us past the hawthorn tree and along the edge of the moors, and then down into a valley through a long lane with high banks covered with brambles and black with the squashy berries. As we pass the hawthorn tree the Elf -always look up at it, and though she says nothing I know she is thinking -of the Mayday and the dancing and the playing at Oranges and Lemons. +always looks up at it, and though she says nothing I know she is +thinking of the Mayday and the dancing and the playing at Oranges +and Lemons. We have a basket each when we go blackberrying, and we race to see who can pick most blackberries. It is a curious thing that the Elf always @@ -944,7 +945,7 @@ goes on, "He does it because he wants to run about and play without hurting the poor little plants. He knows that he is so cold that they would die, like the children in the story book, if he danced about on top of them, without covering them with a blanket So he just freezes the -rain into a big cosy white blanket for them and lays It gently down." +rain into a big cosy white blanket for them and lays it gently down." Presently, after we have been talking and telling stories for a little, the Imp cries out, "Ogre, Ogre, we have forgotten all about the |