She had the box out one day and was counting the money, although she knew precisely how much there was. As a good deal of it was in pennies it made quite a noise, so that Freddie, attracted by the bright outside and noisy inside, thought he would like to have the box to play with. He asked Marty to give it to him, but she, busy with her counting, answered rather sharply, "No, indeed; you can't have it. Go away, now. Don't touch!" But Freddie was very quick in his movements, and before she could get it out of his reach he had seized it and shaken the contents all over the floor. Marty, very angry at having her beautiful box treated so roughly, and seeing the money rolling about in all directions, cried in loud tones, "Let go, you naughty boy! You'll break it!" Freddie, now angry also, and determined to have what he wanted, held on manfully, screaming, "Dive it to me! dive it to me!" and in the struggle a small piece was broken off the lid. Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the room, and arrived in time to see Marty strike Freddie with one hand while she held the box high above her head with the other. Freddie was pounding her with all his little strength and crying uproariously. "Marty, Marty!" called Mrs. Ashford, "don't strike your little brother. What is the matter? Come here, Freddie." But Freddie stamped his foot and screamed, "Will have it! Will have pretty box!" and Marty wailed, "Oh! he's broken my lovely box and spilled all my money." It was some time before peace was fully restored, though Marty was soon very repentant for what she had done and Freddie's ill-temper never lasted very long. After standing a while with his face to the wall, as was his custom on such occasions, crying loudly, the little tempest was all over. He turned around, and putting up his hands to wipe his eyes said pitifully, "My teeks are so wet, and I have no hamititch to dry them." "Come here and I'll dry them," said his mother, taking him on her knee. [Illustration: Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the room. Page 58] "My chin is all wet," he said. "So it is, but we'll dry all your face." "And my hands are all wet." "What a poor little wet boy!" said his mother tenderly, but cheerfully too. After making him comfortable she said, "Now are you sorry you were such a naughty boy?" He nodded his head, and turning to Marty, who was crawling around gathering up her money, he said, "Sorry, Marty." Marty crept up to him, and kissing over and over the little arm she had struck, said with eyes full of tears, "You dear little darling, you don't know how awfully sorry Marty is for being so bad to you!" Then they rubbed their curly heads together until Freddie began to laugh, and in a few moments he was playing with his tin horse as merrily as if nothing had happened, while Marty gathered up and put away her treasures.