Mrs. Ried laughed. She had no idea how sharply Ester had been tried with petty vexations all that morning, nor how bitter those words sounded to her.
"Come, Sadie," she said; "what a silly child you are. Can't you do any thing soberly?"
"I should think I might, ma'am, when I have such a sober and solemn employment on hand as dish-washing. Does it require a great deal of gravity, mother? Here, Robin Redbreast, keep your beak out of my dish-pan."
Minnie, in the mean time, had been seated on the table, directly in front of the dish-pan.
Mrs. Ried looked around. "O Sadie! what possessed you to put her up there?"
"To keep her out of mischief, mother. She's Jack Horner's little sister, and would have had every plum in your pie down her throat, by this time, if she could have got to them. See here, pussy, if you don't keep your feet still, I'll tie them fast to the pan with this long towel, when you'll have to go around all the days of your life with a dish-pan clattering after you."
But Minnie was bent on a frolic. This time the tiny feet kicked a little too hard; and the pan being drawn too near the edge, in order to be out of her reach, lost its balance—over it went.
"O, my patience!" screamed Sadie, as the water splashed over her, even down to the white stockings and daintily slippered feet.
Minnie lifted up her voice, and added to the general uproar. Ester left the eggs she was beating, and picked up broken dishes. Mrs. Ried's voice arose above the din:
"Sadie, take Minnie and go up stairs. You're too full of play to be in the kitchen."