NOW, who can find out What these three little ones are about? Very busy, you see, They all seem to be; But what they are doing, What work or what pleasure pursuing, Is more than my wisdom can tell: And are not you puzzled as well?
One little lady is standing On a cricket in posture commanding; Another is pulling out pieces From a drawer as fast as she pleases; Another is bearing a roll-- But what for? It is all very droll. And pray what is pussy about? She joins in the frolic, no doubt.
These three little ladies, my dear, Know what they're about: that is clear. 'Tis something important, you see, Though a puzzle to you and to me; For they each look as grave as a judge: So, old folks, don't laugh, and cry, "Fudge!" It may be that your own great affairs Are not any more useful than theirs.
I AM only five years old; but I have a great deal of trouble. Papa pulls my ears, and calls me a sad rogue; brother Tom asks me every night what new mischief I have been up to today; and poor mamma sighs, and says I am the most troublesome child she ever saw.
But dear good grandma looks up from her knitting, and smiles as she says, "Tut, tut, daughter! Our Amy isn't any worse than a little girl I knew some thirty years ago."
"O grandma!" cried I one day, "do please tell me about her; for I like to hear about naughty little girls. What was her name, grandma?"
Grandma looked over her spectacles at mamma and smiled, and mamma nodded and smiled back. Then grandma said, "I think I will tell you of one of little Clara's capers; but mind, you are not to go and do the same thing the first chance you get."
This is the story as grandmother told it,--
"Little Clara lived on a farm away out in the country. She was the youngest of seven children, and a great pet, of course. But Clara's little restless feet and mischievous fingers often brought her into trouble and disgrace.
"One day Clara's mother had occasion to go to the store, which was three miles away. Clara wanted to go too. Her mother feared she would be in the way, and looked doubtful; but big brother Ben said, 'Let her go, mother. She'll be good, I know.'
"'Yes; let her go,' said Susan, who was trying to net a bead purse, and keep Clara's fingers out of her box of beads at the same time.