our hair, will you? Papa hates to see you untidy."

For answer Cynthia banged the screen-door as she disappeared into the
house and walked through the wide hall, humming as she went.

"What shall I do with these children?" sighed Edith to herself, as she
laid down the stocking, mended at last, and prepared to put up her work.
"I'm sure I do the best I can, and what I think our mother would have
liked, but it is very hard. If Cynthia only would be more neat!"

A loud crash interrupted her thoughts. At the end of the piazza, where
the children had been playing, was a mass of chairs and tables, while
from the midst of the confusion came roars of pain, anger, and fright.

"What _is_ the matter?" cried Edith, running to the scene, and
overturning her work-basket in her flight.

It took several minutes to extricate the screaming children, set them on
their feet, and ascertain that no bones were broken.

"Get the red oil!" shrieked Janet; "that naughty boy has killed me! I'm
dead! I'm dead! Get the red oil!"

"It's no such a thing!" shouted Willy. "I didn't do it, and I'm dead,
too. Ugh! I'm all bludge. Get the red oil!"

Cynthia had witnessed the scene from the window, and appeared just in
time with the bottle of red oil, the panacea for all the Franklin bumps
and bruises.

"What were you doing, you naughty children?" said Edith, as she wiped
the "bludge" from Willy's lips, and found that it came from a very small
scratch, while Janet was scarcely hurt at all.

"We were only playing cars, and Willy _would_ ride on the engine, and
made it topple over, and--"

"It's no such a thing!" interposed Willy. "Girls don't know nothin'
'bout steam-cars, and Janet went and put her feet on the back of my
chair, and--"

He was interrupted by a blow from Janet's small fat fist, which he
immediately returned in kind, and then both began to scream.

"Yon are both as bad as you can be, and I've a good mind to send you to
bed," said Edith, severely, shaking Janet as she spoke.

Janet cast herself upon Cynthia. "Edith's horrid to us! She is so cross.
Cynthia, don't let her send us to bed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hit Willy;
I'm sorry we upset the chairs; I'm sorry for everything."

"Well, here comes the horse, and I must go," said Edith. "Oh, look at my
basket!"

And it was indeed a sight. Spools, scissors, china eggs, stockings,
everything lay in wild confusion on the floor.

"Never mind. I'll pick them up," said Cynthia. "Don