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An Wrinkled Old Lady
“If it were poisonous, something should happen to me so far as she keeps beating me pretty often ...”
Elizabeth laughed when she saw her friend’s fearful look.
“Clark told me this. I found it interesting and I wanted to share it with you. You almost believed me,” the girl smiled working hard to sweep the floor.
“That’s not true.”
The girls giggled together, enjoying each other as if they were not two orphaned children, but two happy sisters.
“Miss Blackwood is coming!” yelled a small boy, as thin as a stick.
Suddenly, the corridors of the orphanage were filled with children, who would become like little worker bees when the queen bee came to visit.
Some of the children wiped the floor with some damp cloth where Dorothy and Elizabeth just swept the area. Other children made their beds again – they do it several times a day to prevent being reprimanded for not doing anyth
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