Laura sprung off her seat with joy at this proposal, and ran—or rather flew—to fetch her miserable object of a frock, which Nelly crumpled under her arm, and walked away with, in such haste that she was evidently determined to return very soon; while Laura took her good advice, and sat down to learn her task, though she could hardly look at the book during two minutes at a time—she watched so impatiently for her benefactress from the laundry.

At length the door flew open, and in walked Nelly, whose face looked as red and hot as a beefsteak; but in her hand she carried a basket, on which was laid out, in great state, the very cleanest frock that ever was seen! It perfectly smelled of soap and water, starch and hot irons, and seemed still almost smoking from the laundry; while Laura looked at it with such delight and admiration, it might have been supposed she never saw a clean frock before.

When Lady Harriet was sitting after dinner that day, sipping her wine, and thinking about no thing very particular, she became surprised to feel somebody gently twitching her sleeve to attract notice. Turning instantly round to ascertain what was the matter, and who it could be, what was her astonishment to see Laura at her elbow, looking rather shy and frightened.

“How did you get here, child!” exclaimed Lady Harriet, in accents of amazement, though almost laughing. “Am I never to see the last of you to-day! Where did you [91] ]get that frock! It must have dropped from the clouds! Or did some good fairy give you a new one?”

“That good fairy was Nelly the housemaid,” whispered Laura. “She first tossed my frock into a washing-tub; and then at the great kitchen fire she toasted it, and——”

“——And buttered it, I hope,” added Major Graham. “Come here, Laura! I can read what is written in your grandmama’s face at this moment; and it says, ‘you are a tiresome little puss, that nobody can keep in any order except uncle David;’ therefore sit down beside him, and eat as many almonds and raisins as he bids you.”

“You are a nice, funny uncle David!” whispered Laura, crushing her way in between his chair and Miss Perceval’s, “nobody will need a tongue now, if you can read so exactly what we are all thinking.”

“But here is Miss Perceval, still more wonderful; for she knows by the bumps on your head, all that is contained inside. Let me see if I could do so! There is a large bump of reading, and a small one of writing and arithmetic. Here is a terrible organ of breaking dolls and destroying frocks. There is a very small bump of liking uncle David, and a prodigious one of liking almonds and raisins!”

“No! you are quite mistaken! It is the largest bump for loving uncle David, and the small one for every thing else,” interrupted Laura, eagerly. “I shall draw a map of my head some day, to show you how it is all divided.”

“And leave no room for any thing naughty or foolish! Your head should be swept out, and put in order every morning, that not a single cobweb may remain in your brains. What busy brains they must be for the next ten years! But in the meantime let us hope that you will never again be reduced to your