"Oh, John, you needn't do that; I shall have
time when I've turned the meat, made the pudding
and done these things. See, I'm getting on
finely now:--you're a judge of such matters;
isn't that nice?"

As she spole, Nan offered the polished absurdity
for inspection with innocent pride.

"Oh that I were a collar, to sit upon that
hand!" sighed John,--adding, argumentatively,

"As to the berry question, I might answer it with
a gem from Dr. Watts, relative to 'Satan' and
idle hands,' but will merely say, that, as a matter
of public safety, you'd better leave me alone; for
such is the destructiveness of my nature, that I shall
certainly eat something hurtful, break something
valuable, or sit upon something crushable, unless
you let me concentrate my energies by knocking
on these young fellows' hats, and preparing them
for their doom."

Looking at the matter in a charitable light,
Nan consented, and went cheerfully on with her
work, wondering how she could have thought
ironing an infliction, and been so ungrateful for
the blessings of her lot.