Who are you?' she asked the servant coldly. 'Martha, miss,' answered the girl with a smile.
'And what's that outside?' Mary continued.
'That's the moor,' smiled Martha. 'Do you like it?' 'No,' replied Mary immediately. 'I hate it.'
'That's because you don't know it. You will like it. I love
it. It's lovely in spring and summer when there are flowers. It always smells so sweet. The air's so fresh, and the birds
sing so beautifully, I never want to leave the moor.'
Mary was feeling very bad-tempered. 'You're a strange servant,' she said. 'In India we don't have conversations with
servants. We give orders, and they obey, and that's that.' Martha did not seem to mind Mary's crossness.
'I know I talk too much!' she laughed.
'Are you going to be my servant?' asked Mary.
'Well, not really. I work for Mrs Medlock. I'm going to clean your room and bring you your food, but you won't
need a servant except for those things.'
'But who's going to dress me?'
Martha stopped cleaning, and stared at Mary.
'Tha' canna' dress thysen?' she asked, shocked.
'What do you mean? I don't understand your language!' 'Oh, I forgot. We all speak the Yorkshire dialect here,
but of course you don't understand the... I meant to say, can't you put on your own clothes?'
'Of course not! My servant always used to dress me.' 'Well! I think you should learn to dress yourself. My mother always says people should be able to take care of
Mary in Yorkshire
themselves, even if they're rich and important.'
Little Miss Mary was furious with Martha. 'It's different
in India where I come from! You don't know anything about India, or about servants, or about anything! You . . . y o u . . . ' She could not explain what she meant. Suddenly she felt very confused and lonely. She threw herself down
on the bed and started crying wildly.
Who are you?' she asked the servant coldly. 'Martha, miss,' answered the girl with a smile.
'And what's that outside?' Mary continued.
'That's the moor,' smiled Martha. 'Do you like it?' 'No,' replied Mary immediately. 'I hate it.'
'That's because you don't know it. You will like it. I love
it. It's lovely in spring and summer when there are flowers. It always smells so sweet. The air's so fresh, and the birds
sing so beautifully, I never want to leave the moor.'
Mary was feeling very bad-tempered. 'You're a strange servant,' she said. 'In India we don't have conversations with
servants. We give orders, and they obey, and that's that.' Martha did not seem to mind Mary's crossness.
'I know I talk too much!' she laughed.
'Are you going to be my servant?' asked Mary.
'Well, not really. I work for Mrs Medlock. I'm going to clean your room and bring you your food, but you won't
need a servant except for those things.'
'But who's going to dress me?'
Martha stopped cleaning, and stared at Mary.
'Tha' canna' dress thysen?' she asked, shocked.
'What do you mean? I don't understand your language!' 'Oh, I forgot. We all speak the Yorkshire dialect here,
but of course you don't understand the... I meant to say, can't you put on your own clothes?'
'Of course not! My servant always used to dress me.' 'Well! I think you should learn to dress yourself. My mother always says people should be able to take care of
Mary in Yorkshire
themselves, even if they're rich and important.'
Little Miss Mary was furious with Martha. 'It's different
in India where I come from! You don't know anything about India, or about servants, or about anything! You . . . y o u . . . ' She could not explain what she meant. Suddenly she felt very confused and lonely. She threw herself down
on the bed and started crying wildly.
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