"I'm the oldest, and ought to have it," screamed Martha.
"And I'm the youngest, and the oldest ought to give up to the smallest one," said Madge.
"You shan't, you shan't, you impudent jade, so you may just clear out of the way," yelled Martha, striking her sister with all her might.
"Oh! oh! oh! how you have hurt me! I shall tell mother of you as soon as we get home," said Madge.
"I don't care if you do, Miss," said Martha.
Then they went home, Martha with the doll, and Madge following behind her all the way. I thought that I was very unfortunate in the change of my mammas, for, thought I, I can't pass a very pleasant time with these quarrelsome mammas, and I'm afraid that I may have my legs or arms, or even my head broken in a fray, which I should not like very much. At last we came to the house where they lived, and then we had supper, and I was put to bed. I cried very much that night, for I was sad at leaving my little mother Agnes, and I felt bad at having such quarrelsome mothers as I now had. I never could get a moment's peace, for if one of my mothers wanted me put to bed, the other one wanted me to get up. I can remember one day what a quarrel occurred, and these were the words, as nearly as I can recollect. "Madge, where's my doll?" "It's not your doll." "That's a lie." "It aint, I'll have that doll." "You won't, I found it in the grass." "I'm the youngest and ought to have it. Father says you ought to give up to the youngest." "Will you tell me where that doll is, for I want to put its apron on?" "Ah, ha, you won't get it now, if you want to put its apron on, for I am going to put its worst dress on, so as to let it slabber in the dirt." "No you won't, either," and Martha gave Madge slap after slap, and slap after slap, till I thought that Madge would never see light again. That night when I went to bed, I thought how much better it would have been for Martha to have kindly asked Madge for me, and for Madge to have answered kindly; and I hope that all my readers will never imitate Madge and Martha.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SNOW-MEN.
The next day after the quarrel, my mother said that the children, during recess at school, were going to make a "snow-man," and that they would take me to school with them. At twelve they had their recess, when Martha, not finding her scarf as usual, laid the loss of it to Madge, and said, "You, Madge, what have you done with my scarf? bring it here." "I have not done any thing with it," said Madge. "You lie," was the coarse and unladylike retort. At last Martha found her scarf, hanging on her nail, with her cloak over it. When we got into the yard, my mothers brushed away the snow from off a little place on the steps, and set me down there to see the making of the snow-man. The manner of making it was thus:—They each took a small snow-ball and rolled it in the snow, over and over, and then they joined all together and made one large ball. They then took a stick and made a couple of holes in the ball for eyes, and made a straight mark, rather deep, for his mouth, and then took a piece of snow and made it into a nose, as well as they could, and fastened it on. Then they made another ball considerably larger than the first, for his body, and put his head upon it. Legs and arms were also fastened upon the body. When this was done, they all gave three cheers, and went into the school-room.