Bővebb ismertető
AFTERNOON TEA
Piroska is four years old. Piroska is sitting at the table in grandmother's dining-room. From behind the flowery vases and v^hite and dark cakes her blond head peeps out, pale, looking as though it were half porcelain, half sugar. Her clever, cold blue eyes gaze about her avidly. When she closes them she resembles a solemn-faced, demure sleeping-doll.
The afternoon passed in restless confusion. As soon as she had eaten her lunch, the bonne carried her off to the little room and dipped her head into the steaming water several times. The water scalded her scalp and the soap-suds stung her eyes wickedly, so she had to blink many times before she could see again properly. She remembered too that the sunlight had formed large puddles of molten gold on the floor. Then they stood her before the mirror. Here the bonne took her mother's white ivory comb and dragged it through her wet locks, roughly, many times and this hurt a lot. At last they were ready. They got into a hackney-carriage and set off for her grandmother's tea party. It was about half past three.
By then a chocolate-coloured dusk had descended on the streets. Piroska pressed her head against the carriage window and stared anxiously at the houses gliding past.