For God's sake give Emma no more watches; _one_ has turned her head. She is arrogant and insulting. She said something very unpleasant to our old clock in the passage, as if he did not keep time; and yet he had made her no appointment. She takes it out every instant to look at the moment-hand. She lugs us out into the fields, because there the bird-boys ask you, "Pray, sir, can you tell us what's o'clock? " and she answers them punctually. She loses all her time looking to see "what the time is. " I overheard her whispering, "Just so many hours, minutes, etc., to Tuesday; I think St. George's goes too slow. " This little present of Time, -- why, 't is Eternity to her!
What can make her so fond of a gingerbread watch?
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