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Ms A 16r

[16r°] give it to me, but she refused, telling me to get up on a chair. I took a chair without saying a word but thinking she wasn’t too nice; wanting to make her feel it, I searched out in my little head what offended me the most. She often called me [5] “a little brat” when she was annoyed at me and this humbled me very much. So before jumping off my chair, I turned around with dignity and said: “Victoire, you are a brat!” Then I made my escape, leaving her to meditate on the profound statement I had just made. The result wasn’t long in coming, for soon I heard her shouting: “M’amz’elle Marie Thérèse just [10] called me a brat!” Marie came and made me ask pardon, and I did so without having contrition. I thought that if Victoire didn’t want to stretch her big arm to do me a little service, she merited the title brat.

And still Victoire was very fond of me and I was also fond of her. One day, she drew me out of a great peril into which I had [15] tumbled through my own fault. She was ironing the clothes and she had at her side a bucket filled with water. I was watching her and at the same time swinging on a chair, which was a habit of mine. All of a sudden, the chair slipped from under me and I fell, not on the floor, but into the bucket! My feet met my head and I filled the bucket like a little [20] chick fills an eggshell! Poor Victoire gaped at me with great surprise, having never seen anything like it in her life. I wanted to extricate myself from my bucket as quickly as possible, but impossible! My prison fit me so perfectly I couldn’t make a single move. With a little trouble she saved me from my great peril but not my dress and all the rest of my clothes which she had to change. I was soaked to the skin!

Another time I fell into the fireplace where fortunately there was no fire



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