Miss Waterlow Never Walks and She Never Speaks

Once you have bent a piece of poetry, it is never quite the same again. Fortunately for all of us, two lines at the end torn aw so as to make the wedge the right thick ness, have survived. They go like this, she never walks and she never speaks. And we've had her for weeks and weeks and weeks. Missus waterlow could speak if she wanted that. The reason was that she had such lovely things to remember. If only she could remember them. You can't talk and think for a year and a quarter. But nobody can speak without practice. So every night, as soon as she was alone, she practised. Now, teddy