but the poor girl was in no mood that morning to enjoy the flowers and the birds . instead of watching them , as she generally did , she hid her face in her hands , and wondered what would become of her . she rocked herself to and fro , as she thought how terrible it would be if her mother fulfilled her threat and shut her up in the convent of st . mary , with the grave , solemn - faced sisters , who seemed as if they had completely forgotten what it was like to be young , and run about in the sunshine , and laugh , and pick the fresh spring flowers . " oh , i could not do it , i could not do it , " she cried at last . " it would kill me to be a nun . " " and who wants to make a pretty wench like thee into a nun ? " asked a queer , cracked voice quite close to her . maisie jumped up , and stood staring in front of her as if she had been moonstruck . for , just across the stream from where she had been sitting , there was a curious boulder , with a round hole in the middle of it -- for all the world like a big apple with the core taken out . maisie knew it well ; she had often sat upon it , and wondered how the funny hole came to be there . it was no wonder that she stared , for , seated on this stone , was the queerest little old woman that she had ever seen in her life . indeed , had it not been for her silver hair , and the white mutch with the big frill that she wore on her head , maisie would have taken her for a little girl , she wore such a very short skirt , only reaching down to her knees . 
scared .
how did maisie feel when she heard a queer,cracked voice quite close to her ?
how did maisie feel when she heard a queer,cracked voice quite close to her ?