Ah well, I had hoped for a pleasant morning in the drawing room with a nice cup of tea and a little reading but the odd little girl from across town came to call again.  I generally love to open my home to children but the mouth on this one – I have seen sailors use more restraint.  I feel bad for her; she has a perpetually “ill” grandmother for whom Little Miss Potty Mouth is always carting about food in her little basket (and I wonder if grandmother’s “illnesses” aren’t brought on by the amount of wine bottles in her trash each morning?)  Of course, I can see why the grandmother is so hungry, the minute Little Miss Invites Herself parks herself on one of Thornfield’s sofas, she puts her (dirty) heels up on one of my center table and helps herself to the snacks she brought.  I’ll bet dear old grandma never sees a crumb of it.  After she washes down enough carbohydrates to run a marathon, Little Miss Bottomless Pit washes it down with the lemonade that clearly somebody has made special and burps loudly enough to send my tea spoon to the floor.  The food all looks delicious; I wouldn’t know how it tastes, as I am never offered any.  Instead Little Miss Filthy Hands puts greasy fingerprints all over the picture books Mr. Rochester brought me falls asleep right in the middle of my living room.

I know I should keep the door closed to her but I worry because her whole family is a mess and who else is going to keep this poor child on the straight and narrow?  There is the huntsman to whom she refers who apparently knows his way around grandma’s house, if you know what I mean.  Why, she must be at least twice his age, the floozy.  I know Naomi fancies that kind of thing but when I was coming up at Lowood, they taught us a girl should only take a suitor who was… well, actually they kind of discouraged against courting or amicable human contact of any kind – but I imagine they would have advised us to keep with someone our own age.  So as her grandmother opens her home and herself up to this rugged tree feller, Little Miss Misguided wanders around stealing people’s flowers while conversing with someone who sounds like a real wolf.  What decent sort loiters about the woods and chats up young girls?  I shudder to think what he is after.  Of course, she is just advertising for that kind of attention, adorning herself in that brazen red, what is it – a cape?  A poncho?  Who knows with these people, she says her grandmother made it for her – I will just bet she did.  Honestly, thank goodness my heart is so full of kindness that I can keep Little Miss Inappropriately Dressed on the right path; Lord knows she would jump right off it if given the chance.

Oh dear, I must run.  There is a knock at the door and whoever it is seems to have rattled Grace.  Yes, I realize that is no great feat, but she claims he pointed out the size of her enormous nose and she’s rather sensitive about that.  Besides, that’s simply rude; I’ll show this reprobate something about manners, let me just grab my bonnet.

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