On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. ‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. They thought that she was her own mother. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill.
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