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Further Chronicles of Avonlea by L. M. (Lucy Maud) Montgomery
page 128 of 277 (46%)
hard enough to like her, because she seemed to like Diana and me
very much, and always wanted to sit with us and talk to us, when
we would much rather have been somewhere else. We often felt a
good deal of impatience at these times, but I am very glad to
think now that we never showed it.

In a way, we felt sorry for Miss Emily. She was Mr. Leith's
old-maid sister and she was not of much importance in the
household. But, though we felt sorry for her, we couldn't like
her. She really was fussy and meddlesome; she liked to poke a
finger into every one's pie, and she was not at all tactful.
Then, too, she had a sarcastic tongue, and seemed to feel bitter
towards all the young folks and their love affairs. Diana and I
thought this was because she had never had a lover of her own.

Somehow, it seemed impossible to think of lovers in connection
with Miss Emily. She was short and stout and pudgy, with a face
so round and fat and red that it seemed quite featureless; and
her hair was scanty and gray. She walked with a waddle, just
like Mrs. Rachel Lynde, and she was always rather short of
breath. It was hard to believe Miss Emily had ever been young;
yet old Mr. Murray, who lived next door to the Leiths, not only
expected us to believe it, but assured us that she had been very
pretty.

"THAT, at least, is impossible," said Diana to me.

And then, one day, Miss Emily died. I'm afraid no one was very
sorry. It seems to me a most dreadful thing to go out of the
world and leave not one person behind to be sorry because you
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