en the
odour of the oily compound reached the nostrils of the lad's mother,
who was sitting with her back toward him. Turning quickly, she saw
what was going on.

"You!" fell angrily from her lips, as she dropped the baby in the
cradle. "Isn't it too much!" she continued, as she swept across the
room to where Tom was standing before the bureau-dressing-glass.

"There, sir!" and the child's ear rang with the box he received.
"There, sir!" and the box was repeated. "Haven't I told you a
hundred times not to touch that hair-oil? Just see what a spot of
grease you've made on the carpet! Look at your hands!"

Tom looked at his hands, and, seeing them full of oil, clapped them
quickly down upon his jacket, and tried to rub them clean.

"There! stop! mercy! Now see your new jacket that you put on this
morning. Grease from top to bottom! Isn't it too bad! I am in
despair!" And the mother let her hands fall by her side, and her
body drop into a chair.

"It's no use to try," she continued; "I'll give up. Just see that
jacket! it's totally ruined; and that carpet, too. Was there ever
such a trying boy! Go down-stairs this instant, and tell Jane to
come up here."

Tom had reason to know that his mother was not in a mood to be
trifled with, so he went off briskly and called Jane, who was
directed to get some fuller's earth and put upon the carpet where
oil had been spilled.

Not at all liking the atmosphere of his mother's room, Tom, being
once in the kitchen, felt no inclination to return. His first work
there, after delivering his message to Jane, was to commence turning
the coffee-mill.

"Tommy," said the cook, mildly, yet firmly, "you know I've told you
that it was wrong to touch the coffee-mill. See here, on the floor,
where you have scattered the coffee about, and now I must get a
broom and sweep it up. If you do so, I can't let you come down
here."

The boy stood and looked at the cook seriously, while she got the
broom and swept up the dirt he had made.

"It's all clean again now," said the cook, pleasantly. "And you
won't do so any more, will you?"

"No, I won't touch the coffee-mill." And, as Tom said this, he
sidled up to the knife-box that stood upon the dresser, and made a
dive into it with his hand.

"Oh, no, no, no, Tommy! that won't do, either," said the cook. "The
knives have all been cleaned, and they are to go on the table to eat
with."

"Then what can I play with, Margaret?" asked the child, a