show as much as
possible of her face. Her great goggle eyes were rolling about with a
perpetual motion to match that of her tongue; and her cheeks, rouged
till they looked like peonies, were dotted over with black bits of
plaster. I don't know, dear reader, whether Miss Folly be an
acquaintance of yours; if so, I hope that you will excuse my saying
that, notwithstanding her rouge and her jewels, I consider her a perfect
fright.

But here let us make no mistake. I know that there are certain persons
who confuse between Miss Folly and Miss Fun, and fancy that these are
names for one and the same person. I assure you that this is not the
case; Folly and Fun are perfectly distinct. I own that laughing,
singing, playful little Fun, is rather a pet of my own; she and I have
had pleasant hours together; nay, I have actually consulted her when
writing this very book. It is true that she needs to be kept in order,
for her spirits get sometimes a little too wild; she must be forbidden
to do any mischief, or give pain to any creature living. But when under
good control, Fun is a bright and charming companion, especially to the
young; and I delight in hearing her merry laugh, and in watching her
sparkling eyes. But as for Folly, I cannot abide her; her mirth only
makes me sad. Perhaps, before they lay down my book, my readers may more
clearly distinguish what qualities make Miss Folly unlike that general
favourite--Fun.

[Illustration: Miss Folly went jabbering on: "Just try that bonnet on
your head." _Page 73._]

It was clear that Matty Desley was very well satisfied with her
companion, and she turned over the wares with delight, as Miss Folly
went jabbering on,--

"There, now; that's something that I can quite recommend; it's decidedly
_a la mode_, worn by all the duchesses, countesses, baronesses, and lady
mayoresses, at all the balls, routs, conversaziones, and concerts given
this season! And--yes, just try that bonnet on your head, and look at
yourself in this glass"--(Folly always carries a glass)--"doesn't it show
off the charming face?--doesn't it suit the pretty complexion?--doesn't
it make you look quite bewitching, a lovely little fairy as you are?"

"Matty!" cried Lubin, the moment Folly paused to take breath, "we're
going to Arithmetic the ironmonger; will you come with us and buy a new
grate?"

"Multiplication is a vexation,
Addition is as bad;
The Rule of Three doth puzzle me,
And Fr