As she spoke, she arose hastily, and seizing him by the arm,
dragged, rather than led him from the room.

"I never saw such a child!" she said, returning after closing the
door upon Harry. "Nothing does but force. You might talk to him all
day without moving him an inch, when he gets in one of these moods."

Bang went the door open, and, "I (sic) wan't my top-cord!" followed
in louder and more passionate tones than before.

"Isn't it beyond all endurance!" cried my friend, springing up and
rushing across the room.

The passionate child, who had been spoiled by injudicious
management, got a sound whipping and was shut up in a room by
himself. After performing this rather unpleasant task, Mrs. Martinet
returned to the parlour, flushed, excited, and trembling in every
nerve.

"I expect that boy will kill me yet," she said, as she sank,
panting, into a chair. "It is surprising how stubborn and
self-willed he grows. I don't know how to account for it. He never
has his own way--I never yield an inch to him when he gets in these
terrible humours. Oh, dear! I feel sometimes like giving up in
despair."

I did not make a reply, for I could not say any thing that would not
have been a reproof of her impatient temper. After my friend had
grown calmer, she renewed her narrative about the dinner.