e care of Boo off her hands, but I
can't wash my own things, and he hasn't a decent trouser to his blessed
little legs. I'd tell papa, but it wouldn't do any good; he'd only say,
'Yes, child, yes, I'll attend to it,' and never do a thing."

This used to be Molly's lament, when some especially trying event
occurred, and if the girls were not there to condole with her, she would
retire to the shed-chamber, call her nine cats about her, and, sitting
in the old bushel basket, pull her hair about her ears, and scold all
alone. The cats learned to understand this habit, and nobly did their
best to dispel the gloom which now and then obscured the sunshine of
their little mistress. Some of them would creep into her lap and purr
till the comfortable sound soothed her irritation; the sedate elders sat
at her feet blinking with such wise and sympathetic faces, that she felt
as if half a dozen Solomons were giving her the sagest advice; while the
kittens frisked about, cutting up their drollest capers till she laughed
in spite of herself. When the laugh came, the worst of the fit was over,
and she soon cheered up, dismissing the consolers with a pat all round,
a feast of good things from Miss Bat's larder, and the usual speech:--

"Well, dears, it's of no use to worry. I guess we shall get along
somehow, if we don't fret."

With which wise resolution, Molly would leave her retreat and freshen
up her spirits by a row on the river or a romp with Boo, which always
finished the case. Now, however, she was bound to try the new plan and
do something toward reforming not only the boy's condition, but the
disorder and discomfort of home.

"I'll play it is Siam, and this the house of a native, and I'm come to
show the folks how to live nicely. Miss Bat won't know what to make of
it, and I can't tell her, so I shall get some fun out of it, any way,"
thought Molly, as she surveyed the dining-room the day her mission
began.

The prospect was not cheering; and, if the natives of Siam live in such
confusion, it is high time they were attended to. The breakfast-table
still stood as it was left, with slops of coffee on the cloth; bits of
bread, egg-shells, and potato-skins lay about, and one lonely sausage
was cast away in the middle of a large platter. The furniture was dusty,
stove untidy, and the carpet looked as if crumbs had been scattered to
chickens who declined their breakfast. Boo was sitting on the sofa, with
his arm through a hole