Sylvia, between her paroxyms of laughter, told me "not to cry, and they
would soon make me look as good as new--any how, missus musn't see me in
such a pickle." They fell to scraping and scouring with the greatest
zeal, and then placed me before the kitchen fire to dry.

"How the pigs did run!" said Holly; "'spect, Miss Amy, they mistook you
for a little broder!"

At this sally Sylvia laughed louder than ever; but perceiving my
distress, she observed, in a kind tone: "Never mind, Miss Amy, we can't
help laughing, you know--and you'll laugh too, when you git out of this
here mess. But we do really feel sorry for you, for you look reel awful;
I only hope old missus won't come in and ketch you."

But in a few moments the kind face of Aunt Henshaw looked into the scene
of distress which the kitchen had now become, and surprise at my
appearance rendered her almost speechless. But she soon recovered
herself; and under her direction I was immersed in a tub of water, while
my unfortunate clothes were consigned to the same fate. After this
ceremony I was advised to go to bed; and thither I accordingly repaired,
thinking how forlorn it was to fall into the pig-pen on such a beautiful
evening.

The whole household seemed disposed to bear in mind that unfortunate
occurrence; when about to fall into mischief, Aunt Henshaw would say in
a peculiar tone: "Remember the pig-pen, Amy!" or, when troubling Sylvia,
it would be; "I guess you learned that in the pig-pen, Miss Amy;" and
even Holly took up the burden of the song, till I heartily wished that
she had taken the plunge instead of myself. Before long they all
discovered that I was very prone to such scrapes; I dropped a very nice