go-dust-something

I__ tired of sitting. I__ tired of watching everyone else work. I can set my own limits, Amelia. Let me do as I wish._ __o._ Incredulously Amelia watched as Win picked up a broom from the corner. __in, put that down and stop being silly!_ Annoyance whipped through her. __ou__e not going to help anyone by expending all your reserves on menial tasks._ __ can do it._ Win gripped the broom handle with both hands as if she sensed Amelia was on the verge of wrenching it away from her. __ won__ overtax myself._ __ut down the broom._ __eave me alone,_ Win cried. __o dust something!_ __in, if you don____ Amelia__ attention was diverted as she saw her sister__ gaze fly to the kitchen threshold. Merripen stood there, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Although it was early morning, he was already dusty and perspiring, his shirt clinging to the powerful contours of his chest and waist. He wore an expression they knew well__he implacable one that meant you could move a mountain with a teaspoon sooner than change his mind about something. Approaching Win, he extended a broad hand in a wordless demand. They were both motionless. But even in their stubborn opposition, Amelia saw a singular connection, as if they were locked in an eternal stalemate from which neither wanted to break free. Win gave in with a helpless scowl. __ have nothing to do._ It was rare for her to sound so peevish. ____ sick of sitting and reading and staring out the window. I want to be useful. I want_ Her voice trailed away as she saw Merripen__ stern face. __ine, then. Take it!_ She tossed the broom at him, and he caught it reflexively. ____l just find a corner somewhere and quietly go mad. I__l__ __ome with me,_ Merripen interrupted calmly. Setting the broom aside, he left the room. Win exchanged a perplexed glance with Amelia, her vehemence fading. __hat is he doing?_ __ have no idea._ The sisters followed him down a hallway to the dining room, which was spattered with rectangles of light from the tall multipaned windows that lined one wall. A scarred table ran down the center of the room, every available inch covered with dusty piles of china _ towers of cups and saucers, plates of assorted sizes sandwiched together, bowls wrapped in tattered scraps of gray linen. There were at least three different patterns all jumbled together. __t needs to be sorted,_ Merripen said, gently nudging Win toward the table. __any pieces are chipped. They must be separated from the rest._ It was the perfect task for Win, enough to keep her busy but not so strenuous that it would exhaust her. Filled with gratitude, Amelia watched as her sister picked up a teacup and held it upside down. The husk of a tiny dead spider dropped to the floor. __hat a mess,_ Win said, beaming. ____l have to wash it, too, I suppose._ __f you__ like Poppy to help__ Amelia began. __on__ you dare send for Poppy,_ Win said. __his is my project, and I won__ share it._ Sitting at a chair that had been placed beside the table, she began to unwrap pieces of china.