But in the midst of all these joyous sights and sounds, was heard a
dolorous voice repeating, 'three and four are--three and four are--oh
dear! they are--seven, no, but I do not think it is a four after all,
is it not a one? Oh dear!' And on the floor lay Phyllis, her back
to the window, kicking her feet slowly up and down, and yawning and
groaning over her slate.
Presently the door opened, and Claude looked in, and very nearly
departed again instantly, for Phyllis at that moment made a horrible
squeaking with her slate-pencil, the sound above all others that he
disliked. He, however, stopped, and asked where Emily was.
'Out in the garden,' answered Phyllis, with a tremendous yawn.
'What are you doing here, looking so piteous?' said Claude.
'My sum,' said Phyllis.
'Is this your time of day for arithmetic?' asked he.
'No,' said Phyllis, 'only I had not done it by one o'clock to-day,
and Lily said I must finish after learning my lessons for to-morrow,
but I do not think I shall ever have done, it is so hard. Oh!'
(another stretch and a yawn, verging on a howl), 'and Jane and Ada
are sowing the flower-seeds. Oh dear! Oh dear!' and Phyllis's face
contracted, in readiness to cry.
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