The Happy Visitor

 

Jessie remembers differently

  When I go in there the room smells funny, and hot, and I tell myself that this time I am going to be a good sister, and take his poor thin hand, and stroke his hot face, but then he says something hateful and I can’t hold it back, I want to squeeze his miserable little cheeks until they have crumbled to nothing.

I want to be good like the little children in books, Little Nell and Tiny Tim or Sara Crewe, giving her only bread to the starving child. But I am a disagreeable child and when Mother sends me to our room I pinch my own fat cheeks and cry.

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One day a little boy fell from the sky. He didn’t mind the fall much, but the ground hurt! The beings of this strange new land found him and brought him inside. We’ll take the best care of you we can, they said, But you’ll have to stay in here for two months. Oh, how he cried!

 

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