Ireland investment opportunities: Five names to listen

The door led right into a lar­ge kit­chen, which was full of smo­ke from one end to the other: the Duch­ess was sit­ting on a three-leg­ged stool in the midd­le, nur­sing a baby; the cook was lea­ning over the fire, stir­ring a lar­ge cauld­ron which see­med to be full of soup.



‘There’s cer­tain­ly too much pep­per in that soup!’ Ali­ce said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing.

The­re was cer­tain­ly too much of it in the air. Even the Duch­ess snee­zed occa­sio­nal­ly; and as for the baby, it was snee­zing and how­ling alter­na­te­ly without a moment’s pau­se. The only things in the kit­chen that did not snee­ze, were the cook, and a lar­ge cat which was sit­ting on the hearth and grin­ning from ear to ear.

‘Plea­se would you tell me,’ said Ali­ce, a litt­le timid­ly, for she was not qui­te sure whe­ther it was good man­ners for her to speak first, ‘why your cat grins like that?’

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