And out he pulled a Pair of little Chinese Slippers that might have pinched Cinderella.
"I'm sure you can't wear them, Prue," said I.
"I'm sure I shan't try," said she, jerking her Chin.
"Well, Patty, since I could find you Nothing better, I've brought you a Feather Fan with an Ivory Handle."
"Thank you, Tom!" said I; "it will do nicely to flap the Flies off the Pastry."
"And since you, Aunt, will not have the Monkey, you must be content with some Gunpowder Tea."
"I shall like that a great deal better, Tom, I assure you. The only Sort of Gunpowder I approve."
Here Tom pulled out of his Pocket what looked like a Mahogany Rule, about nine Inches long. "Now, Sir," says he to my Father, "what's that?"
"I can't for the Life of me tell," says my Father, after eyeing it askance and then handling it.