"Don't put your slate there; that isn't the place for it."
"How dirty your hands are! what have you been doing?"
"Don't sit in that chair; you break the springs, jouncing."
"Mercy! how your hair looks! Do go up-stairs and comb it."
"There, if you haven't torn the braid all off your coat! Dear me, what a boy!"
"Don't speak so loud; your voice goes through my head."
"I want to know, Jim, if it was you that broke up that barrel that I have been saving for brown flour."
"I believe it was you, Jim, that hacked the edge of my razor."
"Jim's been writing at my desk, and blotted three sheets of the best paper."
Now the question is, if any of the grown people of the family had to run the gantlet of a string of criticisms on themselves equally true as those that salute unlucky Jim, would they be any better-natured about it than he is?