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    [ ] 18.03.2010, 17:30
    M r s. B r o w n: I don't think we ought to waste a lovely afternoon like this.
    M r. B r o w n:It won't be lovely long
    M a r y: It’s been fine all morning, and there’s blue sky everywhere. Shall we go on the river?
    J a c k: Yes, let’s. George and I can row.
    M r. B r o w n: Thank you, but I’d feel safer if you didn’t. I don’t want to have to swim ashore and walk home wet through. Think of something less risky.
    G e o r g e: There’s a cricket-match.
    M a r y: Oh, I don’t want to watch cricket. It’s too slow.
    J a c k: What you want is a nice gentle game of basketball for girls.
    M r s. Brown: Now don’t quarrel. I’ll tell you where we’re going — Kew Gardens.
    J a c k: Can we get tea there?
    M a r y: All you think about is something to eat.
    M r s. B r o w n: Be quiet, Mary. Make haste and get ready. We can take something to read when we’re tired of looking round.
    (A quarter of an hour later)
    M a r y: Oh, Mummy! Must you come in that same old hat? It’s the one you go shopping in.
    M r s . B r o w n: You’ll have to putup with it, Mary, as I have to, I can’t buy a new hat every time I go out — not with four children to bring up.
    V r. B r o w n: Mary, you’re too young to criticize what your mother wears.
    M a r y: I know when she looks nice.
    G e o r g e: Mummy always looks nice. What do hats matter, anyway?
    M r s. B r o w n: Perhaps I’d better change it. I’ll put my new one on. It’s not going to rain.
    M a r y: Oh, thank you, Mumy. Are we going all the way by bus?
    M r. B r o w n: No, by train.
    (Inside Kew Garden)
    M rs. B r o w n: Where shall we go first? Look — what are those purple flowers?
    M r. B r o w n: We’ll find the name at the end of the bed — but it’ll probably be in Latin.
    M r s: B r o w n: Here it is. Write it down for me, will you, James? And I want the name of these pink ones, too. They ought to do well in our garden. I wonder if we can grow them from seed.
    M r. B r o w n: Where’s my pen? I had it when we came out.
    G e o r g e: Can it have fallen out of your pocket?
    M r. B r o w n: No. It never has done.
    M r s: B r o w n: Well, it’s gone now. What a nuisance! Lend me a pencil, Jack.
    M a r y: Wouldn’t it be nice if we could pick a bunch of flowers?
    M r s. B r o w n: If everybody did that, there wouldn’t be many left. Let’s go to the greenhouse.
    M r. B r o w n: It’ll be terribly hot inside.
    M r s. B r o w n: Never mind. We shan’t be in long. (Going in) Shut the door behind you, Jack.
    Jack: It’s a pity we can’t leave it open. It is hot in here. What’s the temperature?
    G e o r g e: A few degrees over ninety, I should think.
    M a r y: Mind that plant. It’s covered with thorns.
    G e o r g e: I think it’s getting hotter in here. And isn’t the air damp!
    M a r y:Are you all right, Mummy? You’re looking very white.
    M r s. B r o w n: It’s the heat, I think. I feel rather faint. I must get some fresh air.
    G e o r g e: Quick, Dad; Mummy’s fainting. (George and Mr Brown help Mrs. Brown outside.)
    M r. B r o w n: You’ll feel better now. Come and sit down on that seat over there.
    M r s. B r o w n: Oh, I’ll soon be all right, thank you. Where are the children?
    G e o r ge: They’re coming.
    M r. B r o w n: If you’re feeling better now, we might as well walk on. Let’s go down this broad avenue. And sit on the grass in the shade.
    G e o r g e: We get a view of the river at the end.
    J a c k: Perhaps we can find a boat.
    M r. Brown: You boys go on ahead if you want to. We shan’t go far from here. Don’t stay away too long.
    M a r y: It looks like rain.
    M rs. B r o w n: It’s only a cloud.
    M r. B r o w n: (shivering): hasn’t it suddenly turned cold?
    M r s. B r o w n: (shivering): Hasn’t it suddenly turned cold?
    M r s. B r o w n: Oh! Look behind through the trees. I never saw such black clouds. It is going to rain.
    M r. B r o w n: Listen! That was thunder. But it seems a long way off. There’ll be time to have tea and then we must hurry back home.
    M r s: B r o w n: (getting the things out of the basket): Where are those children? Go and look for them. That was a spot of rain.
    J a c k: (running up): It’s lightning.
    M r s. Brown: Where are the others?
    J a c k: Mary fell over a root and she can’t walk. She’s twisted her ankle. George is carrying her on his back.
    M r s. B r o w n: Oh, dear! Can dear! Can anything else happen to us today?
    M r. B r o w n: Yes, we can get wet through. Put the things in the basket — put the things in the basket — put them in anyhow — and hurry off. You can shelter in the greenhouse.
    M r s. B r o w n: That awful place? I’d rather get wet through.
    M r. B r o w n: Well, you can find shelter somewhere. Do make haste.
    J a c k: Look at all those people running.
    M r s. Brown: Can’t we shelter under these trees?
    M r. B r o w n: This is going to be a violent storm. You wouldn’t stay dry for long. Besdies, it’s dangerous. Trees are often struck by lightning.
    J a c k: There’s George — over there with Mary.
    M r. B r o w n: You go with your mother. I’ll go and carry Mary. Hurry!
    J a c k: What big drops! Come along, Mummy. I’ll take the basket. What a pity we’ve missed our tea! Never mind, we’ll have it at home.
    M r. B r o w n: (to Mary) Now, Mary, what have you done to yourself? Can’t you run if we help you? Take hold of one arm, George, and I’ll take the other.
    M a r y: Oh! My foot hurts! I can’t bear to touch the ground with it. Look how swollen my ankle is.
    G e o r g e: Yes, you’ve given it quite a twist. I hope it’s not broken.
    M r. B r o w n: Well, get on my back, quick. It’s going to rain in earnest in a minute. Make for the greenhouses. You’re much heavier than I thought you were, Mary. I can’t run with you. Go ahead, George.
    G e o r g e: What’s the use of hurrying? We’ll get wet to the skin in any case.
    (Later at home)
    M r. B r o w n: What a day! We’d much better have stayed at home. My fountain pen is lost, Mother faints, Mary’s twisted her ankle, and we shall probably all catch our deaths of cold through keeping our wet things on so long.
    M r s. B r o w n: My hat is ruined. I do wish I’d worn the other.
    J a c k: Even the sandwiches were spoilt.

    (From: “A direct Method English course” by E.V. Gatenby)

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