actions make me mad!"

cried Folly, rolling her goggle eyes, and thinking herself quite a wit.

"Was it not at Arithmetic's factory that Dick hurt himself yesterday?"
said Matty.

"Hurt himself, did he?" interrupted Folly, who seemed resolved to take
the largest share of the conversation. "Why did he not come to me for a
salve? I've the best salve that ever was invented--Flattery salve,
warranted to heal all manner of bruises and sores; yes, headaches, and
heartaches, and all kinds of aches. It's patronized by all the heads of
the nobility and gentry. I've tried it myself many a time, and always
find it a perfect cure! When I've the high-strikes (I'm very subject to
the high-strikes), I just rub a little on the tip of my ear, and it
calms down my nerves like a charm. I wish you would try it!" she cried,
turning to Lubin.

"I'm not subject to high-strikes, and don't want Flattery salve," said
the boy, in his blunt, simple manner; "all I want is to know whether
you, Matty, will go with us to the town of Education."

"I can't go to-day!" cried Matty, annoyed at being interrupted by her
brother and sister; "I shall want every minute of Time's money to buy
some of Miss Folly's pretty things!"

"Leave Miss Folly, I should say," cried Lubin, who had no want of plain
common-sense; "a pleasant, good-humoured smile makes a face look nicer
than all that flummery there."

"Dear Matty, the days go fast," said Nelly, "and you know that our
mother expects to find our cottages well furnished on her return. I
really think that we've no Time money to spare upon what can be of no
possible use."

"What would my Lady Fashion, my most particular friend, say if she
could hear you?" exclaimed Folly, who had been struggling to get in a
word, much talking being very characteristic of Folly; "she--Lady
Fashion I mean--is always for the ornamental; the useful she leaves to
the vulgar. As for your sister there" (Folly only condescended to speak
to Matty), "she knows nothing, I see, of flounces, furbelows, fringes,
and flowers; she'd put on a bonnet back part forward, or a shawl wrong
side out; and she looks like a whipping-post, or a thread-paper, or
a--"

"Oh, stop that jabber, will you!" cried Lubin, putting his hands to his
ears.

"Come with us, Matty," entreated Nelly, "and buy something solid and
useful. Summer will soon be over, and when cold weather comes, what
should we do without grates?"

"I can't come, and I won't come!" c