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They sat down to eat their porridge. The mischievous young lady turned her back upon her sister, and put an expansive spoonful into her mouth.
“Gracious goodness!” she cried, “I have smoldered my tongue.”
“Eat it gradually,” said the great younger sibling. She took up her porridge painstakingly, and in the wake of blowing it tenderly, and sitting tight for a moment or two while it cooled, ate it, and thought that it was exceptionally pleasant.
“I might not eat mine until it is truly chilly,” said Totsey, getting cross.
“At that point it will be frightful,” said the great younger sibling, as yet going ahead with her own particular porridge.
“Goodness, dear,” said Totsey, “on the off chance that I eat it excessively hot it blazes me, and on the off chance that I eat it excessively cool its frightful. What should I do?
“Take it as I do mine,” said the great younger sibling. “It is the right way.”
“There are two wrong ways and stand out right way; it isn’t reasonable,” murmured the shrewd young lady. “Also, goodness! my porridge is so terrible.” Then she asked, “Did you ever eat your porridge excessively hot and blaze your tongue?”
“No,” addressed the great younger sibling; “I never ate my porridge excessively hot and blazed my tongue.”
“Did you ever eat your porridge when it was truly frosty and extremely dreadful?”
“No,” addressed the great younger sibling again; “I never ate my porridge when it was truly frosty and extremely dreadful.”
“All things considered, I have,” said Totsey ; ” thus I think around two things that you don’t think about.” And the underhanded younger sibling got up and left, and the great younger sibling sat still and contemplated numerous things.