he'd lay one hand over his papers, and push his ink-stand
as far as possible into the middle of the table; mamma would catch up
her work-basket and put it in her lap; her little brothers and sisters
would all scrabble up their playthings, and run; even the little baby
would crawl on its hands and knees as fast as it could, and catch hold
of its mother's gown.

You might be sure if you laid a thing out of your hand, you never would
find it in the same spot where you left it, if Violetta were in the
room. She would run off with your scissors, your bodkin, your
needlebook, and your spool of cotton; she would stuff your handkerchief
in her pocket by mistake; she'd break the strings of your bag, trying
to open it; she'd try your spectacles on to her kitten, and tie your
new tippet on the dog Ponto's neck.

Then she would run into the kitchen and dip her fingers into the
preserves, and upset the egg-basket, and open the oven door and let the
heat all out when the pies were baking, and leave the cover off the
sugar bucket, and dip into the milk to feed her kitty, and disturb the
cream, and nibble round a loaf of fresh cake, just like a little mouse.

Well, of course everybody disliked her, and hated to see her come where
they were. She never got invited anywhere, because nothing was safe
from her little Paul Pry fingers; and when company came she generally
got sent out of the room. It was a great pity, because she was really a
pretty little girl, and a very bright one, too.

"Oh, Miss Kizzy," said Luly, "I never will do so any more, I----"

Why, Luly, I didn't say _you_ did so; I was talking about Violetta.

"Oh, but it is just like _me_," said the honest little girl; "I have
done all those things, Miss Kizzy--every one of them; but I didn't
think it would make everybody hate me. I want to be loved, Miss Kizzy;
but you don't know how dreadful hard it is for a little girl to 'keep
still.'"

Yes I do, Luly; and you needn't "keep still," as you call it, but you
mustn't meddle with what don't belong to you. I see how it is: you are
a very active little girl, and want something to do all the time. I'll
ask your mother to let you go to school--(Luly frowned)--to me, Luly!

"Oh, that's so nice," said Luly. "Don't get a bench--will you? Don't
make me set up straight. Don't make me fold up my hands and keep my
toes still, will you, Miss Kizzy?"

Well, Luly came to my school, and stood up or sat down, just as she
liked. She w