"'I tried to do as you told me,' said Arthur, with a little sigh.
"'Oh, fiddlesticks! don't tell me! You are a terrible boy!' and Mary bounced out of the room, banging the door behind her.
"Arthur went down to breakfast, and ran up to his mother to tell her about Mary. 'I think she was "terrible,"' he said. 'What could be the matter with her, mamma?'
"'Perhaps she was indulging in ill temper,' answered his mother, significantly.
"When they sat down to breakfast there was no toast.
"'I should like a piece of toast,' said Arthur.
"His mother rang a little bell, and the cook came in. She looked first at the mistress, with a peculiar smile, and then she looked at Arthur.
"'Margaret,' said he, 'there is no toast.'
"'I know it, Master Arthur; it was too brown; and you are so hard to suit, that I did not dare to serve it.'
"'I hard to suit?' cried Arthur, who seemed to have forgotten what a naughty boy he had been. 'I hard to suit? Not at all. If the toast is a little too brown, I don't mind it. Give it to me, Margaret.'