The Newspaper of Claremont Street Read Online Free PDF Page B

curacao—advocaat—benedictine—kirsch—kümmel—crème de menthe.’ He rolled the names off his pointed pink tongue. He pushed three pennies into her hand.
    â€˜Go in and buy some.’
    â€˜Aw, I dursn’t.’
    â€˜Go on!’
    â€˜It’s too posh.’
    â€˜No it isn’t. I want some of that chocolate. Just go in and ask for that one.’ He pressed his finger on the glass, pointing at a chocolate whirl, a luxurious nest for an almond delicately frosted with something pink that glittered.
    Three times, against her will, Weekly entered the shop and timidly offered her money, coming down in choice, every time, to smaller and more ordinary looking sweets displayed on the glasstopped counter. The third time the owner of the shop came round the counter and opened the door for Weekly, overgrown and awkward as she was, to leave. Victor lay as if dead or in a fainting fit, his head in the gutter.
    â€˜Get him away from here,’ the owner of the shop growled at her and went back inside, the door bell swinging and clanging like an alarm.
    â€˜Oh my Gawd!’ Weekly groaned aloud before closing her eyes. She tried to forget her brother, but in spite of herself she remembered things from time to time. Andwhen one has had a long life there are a great many things to remember.
    During the night for some reason Crazy moved all her kittens, one at a time, to some other corner in the room. Then, for some reason known only to herself, she brought one kitten back to the end of the bed and left it there so that Weekly was disturbed by its mewing which, for such a tiny creature, was a considerable noise and had a plaintive quality which made it quite impossible for Weekly to sleep properly. She dozed uneasily.
    â€˜Margarite Morris, is the sun shining today?’ Miss Jessop entered the classroom at the Remand Home. The passage boards and the stairs were reinforced with some kind of metal edging, it looked like lead. The girls were able to hear their teacher approaching for some time before she appeared. They were also able to hear each other; at times the noise of their boots on the metal was like machinery, out of order, in a factory.
    Weekly, or Margarite as she was in those days, looked up at the clouds which filled the high window. Outside it was raining, the classroom was religious with the dark from the rain clouds.
    â€˜No Miss Jessop,’ she said after a pause
    â€˜Margarite Morris, you are quite wrong, you have forgotten all you learned the last time you were here.’
    â€˜Yes Miss Jessop.’
    â€˜Margarite Morris, it is daylight outside, is it not, and the sun is shining up there behind the clouds.’
    â€˜Yes Miss Jessop.’
    â€˜Now copy down from the blackboard...’
    There was a rustling and a scratching of nibs and the noise of pens in inkwells.
    â€˜Margarite Morris read out what I have written.’
    â€˜Yes Miss Jessop.

    â€˜The women are all keen-witted, clear-sighted and practical in all affairs except love, do you agree?’
    The word ‘love’ sent a whispering sigh of laughter through the girls. Miss Jessop rapped the blackboard with her pointer.
    â€˜Before we proceed with our scripture we will add up the marks of the arithmetic test. Every girl add up her own marks, put down the total and then pass her paper to the girl behind for a check over.’
    The room was full of adding up; it seemed to get darker.
    Weekly put her paper over her shoulder, she made her marks 78 and was quite pleased with herself but that hippo, Amelia, who sat behind her, got them down to 68.
    Miss Jessop recorded all the marks as the girls called them out.
    â€˜Margarite Morris,’ she said, ‘you don’t seem to pay attention. Can you remember anything of what we have been reading?’ Weekly stood up.
    â€˜Yerse Miss Jessop.

    â€˜Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou?’
    â€˜And