down
with a thumping blow--not this time on her nose, but on the back of her
head.

More hurt than she had been by her former tumble, and yet more mortified
than hurt, the poor child began to cry. Dame Desley and Nelly ran to
raise her, while Mr. Learning, grave as he usually was, could hardly
refrain from laughing.

"She has quite a bump on her poor head!" cried Nelly. "Dear Matty! what
can we do for her?"

"Get me the pink salve from the mantelpiece," sobbed Matty. Her sister
hurried to the place as fast as she could.

"Let me see it first," said Dame Desley, examining the little china pot,
which was labelled, "FLATTERY SALVE, _patronized by the nobility and
gentry. Warranted to heal all manner of bruises and sores._"

"Where did you get this?" inquired the mother. Matty whimpered out that
she had had it from Miss Folly.

"Let Miss Folly keep her own trash to herself!" cried the indignant
dame, flinging the little pot out of the window; "that is a most
dangerous salve: its effect is often that of injuring the brain,
weakening the senses--producing dizziness and delirium! Bring a little
cold water, Nelly; that is a far better thing to apply to a bump on the
head like this."

"I am afraid," observed Mr. Learning, as the simple remedy was tried
with effect, "that Matty, quick and ready a pupil as she is, will have
almost as much to do as Lubin before her cottage is really well
furnished. She had better at once commence the work of getting rid of
the trash; and I should recommend her to make a famous large bonfire of
it to celebrate her mother's return."

Poor Matty, who had at first eyed with mingled curiosity and hope the
white box under the arm of her guardian--believing that it must contain
the silver crown of Success--felt her heart sink at these words; and
with drooping head and melancholy mien, she went with her companions to
the cottage adjoining.

CHAPTER XXX.

FRUITS OF NEEDLEWORK.

"Now this is what I should call neat--neat, and not gaudy," said Dame
Desley, as she stood in the doorway of Nelly's home, and surveyed with a
pleased eye the perfect order of the place. "The fire-irons bright,
though small--the paper chosen with judgment--everything needful, though
there is little to spare--each article in its proper place, and neat and
good of its kind." Oh, how delightful to Nelly was the praise which she
had fairly earned by self-denying labour!

"Considering that Nelly is lame--that she