This is a story about something that happened to SOMEONE. You'll excuse me one moment while I decide what, and to whom.
Aha. Let us begin.
This is going to be the story of a young lady called Miss Cecilia Brown. She was of average height, build, and intelligence. Her eyes and hair were of that color which, though its actual plainness may be debated, seems the most common among fair people: Brown.
She came from a large family, in which she was the second eldest child and the only daughter. Her father was a banker and rather well-to-do, always. It seemed he must have been born with that correct little moustache; such was his perfect consistency in the minds his children.
Her mamma was once a celebrated beauty, Miss Marianne Lewis, the heart of every merriment - no one ever expected her to marry the sensible, upright Mr. Brown. Not, of course, to say that Miss Lewis' conduct was in any way reproachable; but Mr. Brown was always SO upright; SO proper, he seemed the very epitome of implacable virtue and security.
But as it turned out, Miss Lewis had dreamed of such a paragon of virtue since precisely the age of seven; and the happy pair were married in February the year they met.
But this is the story of Cecilia, their daughter.
Cecilia was born in January, four years after her brother, Clarence Everett Brown, who was to become a quite well-known concert pianist. When she came into the world and the attending nurse looked at her, and told her that it was a daughter, Mrs. Brown fainted. Later Mr. Brown questioned her motive in doing this, and expressed his hope that the gesture had not hurt the baby's feelings. No, said his wife, I did not mean anything in that way at all; I was simply so happy that it was a girl; and I couldn't bear the excitement. Well, said her husband again, I only hope that the baby understands that.
As she got older Cecilia was to discover that her parents expected their children to understand rather a lot.
Aha. Let us begin.
This is going to be the story of a young lady called Miss Cecilia Brown. She was of average height, build, and intelligence. Her eyes and hair were of that color which, though its actual plainness may be debated, seems the most common among fair people: Brown.
She came from a large family, in which she was the second eldest child and the only daughter. Her father was a banker and rather well-to-do, always. It seemed he must have been born with that correct little moustache; such was his perfect consistency in the minds his children.
Her mamma was once a celebrated beauty, Miss Marianne Lewis, the heart of every merriment - no one ever expected her to marry the sensible, upright Mr. Brown. Not, of course, to say that Miss Lewis' conduct was in any way reproachable; but Mr. Brown was always SO upright; SO proper, he seemed the very epitome of implacable virtue and security.
But as it turned out, Miss Lewis had dreamed of such a paragon of virtue since precisely the age of seven; and the happy pair were married in February the year they met.
But this is the story of Cecilia, their daughter.
Cecilia was born in January, four years after her brother, Clarence Everett Brown, who was to become a quite well-known concert pianist. When she came into the world and the attending nurse looked at her, and told her that it was a daughter, Mrs. Brown fainted. Later Mr. Brown questioned her motive in doing this, and expressed his hope that the gesture had not hurt the baby's feelings. No, said his wife, I did not mean anything in that way at all; I was simply so happy that it was a girl; and I couldn't bear the excitement. Well, said her husband again, I only hope that the baby understands that.
As she got older Cecilia was to discover that her parents expected their children to understand rather a lot.
