1 "My Ayah did it," answered Mary, staring.
2 Martha sat up on her heels again and stared.
3 When she awakened she lay and stared at the wall.
4 The child stared at him, but she stared most at her mother.
5 "Humph," muttered Mrs. Medlock, staring at her queer, unresponsive little face.
6 But something troubled and awkward in her manner made Mistress Mary stare very hard at her.
7 She walked slowly down this place and stared at the faces which also seemed to stare at her.
8 When he did awake at last it was brilliant morning and a servant was standing staring at him.
9 Sometimes I have been taken to places at the seaside, but I won't stay because people stare at me.
10 Colin lay quiet a little while and his strange gray eyes seemed to be staring at the wall, but Mary saw he was thinking.
11 The nurse, Mrs. Medlock and Martha had been standing huddled together near the door staring at her, their mouths half open.
12 A broad window with leaded panes looked out upon the moor; and over the mantel was another portrait of the stiff, plain little girl who seemed to stare at her more curiously than ever.
13 Instead of lying and staring at the wall and wishing he had not awakened, his mind was full of the plans he and Mary had made yesterday, of pictures of the garden and of Dickon and his wild creatures.
14 Then when they took me to the seaside and I used to lie in my carriage everybody used to stare and ladies would stop and talk to my nurse and then they would begin to whisper and I knew then they were saying I shouldn't live to grow up.
15 She ate a great deal and afterward fell asleep herself, and Mary sat and stared at her and watched her fine bonnet slip on one side until she herself fell asleep once more in the corner of the carriage, lulled by the splashing of the rain against the windows.
16 She was in such a rage and felt so helpless before the girl's simple stare, and somehow she suddenly felt so horribly lonely and far away from everything she understood and which understood her, that she threw herself face downward on the pillows and burst into passionate sobbing.
17 And she ran into the middle of the room and, taking a handle in each hand, began to skip, and skip, and skip, while Mary turned in her chair to stare at her, and the queer faces in the old portraits seemed to stare at her, too, and wonder what on earth this common little cottager had the impudence to be doing under their very noses.
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