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She stood helplessly stranded on his world He continued his

work She knew she could not help him A little bit forlorn, at

last she turned away, and ran down the garden, away froet him and his

work

He missed her presence, her face in her red woollen bonnet,

her blue overall fluttering She ran to where a little water ran

trickling between grass and stones That she loved

When he came by he said to her: "You didn't help me much"

The child looked at him dumbly Already her heart was heavy

because of her own disappointment Her mouth was dumb and

pathetic But he did not notice, he went his way

And she played on, because of her disappoint

even the more in her play She dreaded work, because she could

not do it as he did it She was conscious of the great breach

between therown-up power to

work deliberately was a mystery to her

He would smash into her sensitive child's world

destructively Her mother was lenient, careless The children

played about as they would all day Ursula was

thoughtless--why should she ree had budded, and if she wanted these

greeny-pink, tiny buds for bread-and-cheese, to play at teaparty

with, over she went for them

Then suddenly, perhaps the next day, her soul would almost

start out of her body as her father turned on her, shouting: "Who's been tramplin' an' dancin' across where I've just