“I found some red stuff in Sue’s drawer,” sez I, and she smiled kind o’ hateful, and said:
“Oh!”
My sister says she is an awful gossip, which will tell all over town that they paint, wich they don’t, ’cause that sawcer was gust to make roses on card-bord, wich is all right.
Sue was so mad she boxed my ears.
“Aha, missy!” sez I to myself, “you don’t guess about them fotografs wot I took out o’ your drawer!”
Some folks think little boys’ ears are made on purpose to be boxed—my sisters do. If they knew what dark and desperate thoughts come into little boys’ minds, they’d be more careful—it riles ’em up like pokin’ sticks into a mud puddel.
A PHOTOGRAPHIC PICTURE. (1853.)
Old Lady (who is not used to these new-fangled notions). Oh, sir! please, sir! don’t, sir! Don’t for goodness’ sake fire; sir!
I laid low—but beware to-morrow!
They let me come down to breakfast this mornin’.