"
When the fog arrived it seemed to penetrate every nook and corner of
the house. The daily afternoon walk that Maggie took with Aunt
Elizabeth was cancelled because of the difficulty of finding one's
way from street to street and "because some rude man might steal
one's money in the darkness," and Maggie was not sorry. Those walks
had not been amusing, Aunt Elizabeth having nothing to say and being
fully occupied with keeping an eye on Maggie, her idea apparently
being that the girl would suddenly dash off to freedom and
wickedness and be lost for ever. Maggie had no such intention and
developed during these weeks a queer motherly affection for both the
aunts, so lost they were and helpless and ignorant of the world! "My
dear," said Maggie to herself, "you're a bit of a fool as far as
common-sense goes, but you're nothing to what they are, poor dears."
She tried to improve herself in every way for their benefit, but her
memory was no better. She forgot all the things that were, in their
eyes, the most important--closing doors, punctuality for meals, neat
stitches, careful putting away of books and clothes.
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