Mother. Why, my dear, do you not remember that the nose is half burnt off?
A. Well, mamma, suppose it is—it does not look very badly, and you have always told me that as long as things were useful, we must not put them aside.
M. But it is not useful, Anne; that is the only reason why I have set it up on the high shelf.
A. I do not see why it is not useful, I am sure. I think, mamma, you might as well put away my little spade because the handle is broken off at the top, or John’s kite because the wind has taken off a piece of the tail!
M. Well, my dear, this sounds very well; but let us consider the matter a little. Of what use is a tea-pot?
A. Why, to hold tea, I suppose!
M. Well, what is tea—a solid body?
A. Oh no; it is what my book of natural philosophy would call a liquid. Oh, that book is very interesting; wait a minute while I get it, mamma—here it is!
M. What is one of the properties of liquids?
A. Let me see—oh, here I have it. Liquids always tend to an equilibrium.