"Then what can I play with, Margaret?" asked the child, as he left the dresser. "I want something to play with."

The cook thought a moment, and then went to a closet and brought out a little basket filled with clothes-pins. As she held them in her hand, she said--"Tommy, if you will be careful not to break any of these, nor scatter them about, you may have them to play with. But remember, now, that as soon as you begin to throw them around the room, I will put them up again."

"Oh, no, I won't throw them about," said the little fellow, with brightening eyes, as he reached out for the basket of pins.

In a little while he had a circle formed on the table, which he called his fort; and inside of this he had men, cannon, sentry-boxes, and other things that were suggested to his fancy.

"Where's Thomas?" asked his mother, about the time he had become fairly interested in his fort.

"I left him down in the kitchen," replied Jane.

"Go down and tell him to come up here instantly."

Down went Jane.

"Come along up-stairs to your mother," said she.

"No, I won't," replied the boy.

"Very well, mister! You can do as you like; but your mother sent for you."

"Tell mother I am playing here so good. I'm not in any mischief. Am I, Margaret?"

"No, Tommy; but your mother has sent for you, and you had better go."

"I don't want to."

"Just as you like," said Jane, indifferently, as she left the kitchen and went up-stairs.

"Where's Thomas?" was the question with which she was met on returning to the chamber.

"He won't come, ma'am."

"Go and tell him that if he doesn't come up to me instantly, I will put on his night-clothes and shut him up in the closet."

The threat of the closet was generally uttered ten times where it was executed once; it made but little impression upon the child, who was all absorbed in his fort.

Jane returned. In a few moments afterward, the quick, angry voice of the mother was heard ringing down the stairway.

"You, Tom! come up here this instant."

"I'm not troubling any thing, mother."

"Come up, I say!"

"Margaret says I may play with the clothes-pins. I'm only building a fort with them."

"Do you hear me?"

"Mother!"

"Tom! if you don't come to me this instant, I'll almost skin you.

Margaret! take them clothes-pins away. Pretty playthings, indeed, for you to give a boy like him! No wonder I have to get a dozen new ones every two or three months."

Margaret now spoke.

"Tommy, you must go up to your mother."

She now took the clothes-pins and commenced putting them into the basket where they belonged. Her words and action had a more instant effect than all the mother's storm of pa.s.sion. The boy left the kitchen in tears, and went slowly up-stairs.

"Why didn't you come when I called you? Say!"

The mother seized her little boy by the arm the moment he came in reach of her, and dragged rather than led him up-stairs, uttering such exclamations as these by the way:

"I never saw such a child! You might as well talk to the wind! I'm in despair! I'll give up! Humph! clothes-pins, indeed! Pretty playthings to give a child! Every thing goes to rack and ruin!

There!"

And, as the last word was uttered, Tommy was thrust into his mother's room with a force that nearly threw him prostrate.

"Now take off them clothes, sir."

"What for, mother? I haven't done any thing! I didn't hurt the clothes-pins; Margaret said I might play with them."

"D'ye hear? take off them clothes, I say!"

"I didn't do any thing, mother."

"A word more, and I'll box your ears until they ring for a month.

Take off them clothes, I say! I'll teach you to come when I send for you! I'll let you know whether I am to be minded or not!"

Tommy slowly disrobed himself, while his mother, fretted to the point of resolution, eyed him with unrelenting aspect. The jacket and trousers were removed, and his night-clothes put on in their stead, Tommy all the while protesting tearfully that he had done nothing.

"Will you hush?" was all the satisfaction he received for his protestations.

"Now, Jane, take him up-stairs to bed; he's got to lie there all the afternoon."

It was then four, and the sun did not set until near eight o'clock.

Up-stairs the poor child had to go, and then his mother found some quiet. Her babe slept soundly in the cradle, undisturbed by Tommy's racket, and she enjoyed a new novel to the extent of almost entirely forgetting her lonely boy shut up in the chamber above.

"Where's Tommy?" asked a friend, who dropped in about six o'clock.

"In bed," said the mother, with a sigh.

"What's the matter? Is he sick?"

"Oh, no. I almost wish he were."

"What a strange wish! Why do you wish so?"