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“Oh, no, no, no, Tommy! that won’t do, either,” said the cook. “The knives have all been cleaned, and they are to go on the table to eat with.”

“Then what can I play with, Margaret?” asked the child, as he left the dresser. “I want something to play with.”

The cook thought a moment, and then went to a closet and brought out a little basket filled with clothes-pins. As she held them in her hand, she said–“Tommy, if you will be careful not to break any of these, nor scatter them about, you may have them to play with. But remember, now, that as soon as you begin to throw them around the room, I will put them up again.”

“Oh, no, I won’t throw them about,” said the little fellow, with brightening eyes, as he reached out for the basket of pins.

In a little while he had a circle formed on the table, which he called his fort; and inside of this he had men, cannon, sentry-boxes, and other things that were suggested to his fancy.

“Where’s Thomas?” asked his mother, about the time he had become fairly interested in his fort.

“I left him down in the kitchen,” replied Jane.

“Go down and tell him to come up here instantly.”

Down went Jane.

“Come along up-stairs to your mother,” said she.

“No, I won’t,” replied the boy.

“Very well, mister! You can do as you like; but your mother sent for you.”

“Tell mother I am playing here so good. I’m not in any mischief. Am I, Margaret?”

“No, Tommy; but your mother has sent for you, and you had better go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Just as you like,” said Jane, indifferently, as she left the kitchen and went up-stairs.

“Where’s Thomas?” was the question with which she was met on returning to the chamber.

“He won’t come, ma’am.”

“Go and tell him that if he doesn’t come up to me instantly, I will put on his night-clothes and shut him up in the closet.”

The threat of the closet was generally uttered ten times where it was executed once; it made but little impression upon the child, who was all absorbed in his fort.

Jane returned. In a few moments afterward, the quick, angry voice of the mother was heard ringing down the stairway.

“You, Tom! come up here this instant.”

“I’m not troubling any thing, mother.”

“Come up, I say!”

“Margaret says I may play with the clothes-pins. I’m only building a fort with them.”

“Do you hear me?”

“Mother!”

“Tom! if you don’t come to me this instant, I’ll almost skin you. Margaret! take them clothes-pins away. Pretty playthings, indeed, for you to give a boy like him! No wonder I have to get a dozen new ones every two or three months.”

Margaret now spoke.

“Tommy, you must go up to your mother.”

She now took the clothes-pins and commenced putting them into the basket where they belonged. Her words and action had a more instant effect than all the mother’s storm of passion. The boy left the kitchen in tears, and went slowly up-stairs.

“Why didn’t you come when I called you? Say!”

The mother seized her little boy by the arm the moment he came in reach of her, and dragged rather than led him up-stairs, uttering such exclamations as these by the way:

“I never saw such a child! You might as well talk to the wind! I’m in despair! I’ll give up! Humph! clothes-pins, indeed! Pretty playthings to give a child! Every thing goes to rack and ruin! There!”

And, as the last word was uttered, Tommy was thrust into his mother’s room with a force that nearly threw him prostrate.

“Now take off them clothes, sir.”

“What for, mother? I haven’t done any thing! I didn’t hurt the clothes-pins; Margaret said I might play with them.”

“D’ye hear? take off them clothes, I say!”

“I didn’t do any thing, mother.”

“A word more, and I’ll box your ears until they ring for a month. Take off them clothes, I say! I’ll teach you to come when I send for you! I’ll let you know whether I am to be minded or not!”