“I’ll give you honey that you won’t like,” sez she: “takin’ the advantage of your ma, and tearin’ folks’es books to pieces in this way—books that you know your ma is so careful of.” And she took him by the collar of his little gray roundabout, and led him into the kitchen, and, by the screamin’ that I heerd from there shortly, I thought he didn’t like his honey. She come back into the room in a few minutes and sez she; “I am so mortified, I don’t know what to do; I never did see such a child. He see me settin’ down shellin’ beans, and he took the advantage of me and got the book. That’s jest the way with him: if I don’t keep my eyes on him every minute, he’ll get the advantage of me. I am mortified ’most to death,” sez she, gatherin’ up the pieces and puttin’ ’em into the book. As she handed it to me, the leaves kinder fell apart, and I see, on one of the patterns, a grease-spot as big as one of my hands. She see it and broke out ag’n: “I declare, I am so mortified; I was goin’ to take that all out with some powder I have got. My Sophrenie wanted to take a pattern off, the night before she went away, and she hadn’t any thin paper, and so she greased a piece of writin’-paper and laid on to it and took it off. But I was going to take it all out, every speck of it. I will give you some of the powder to take home with you.” “I don’t care about any powder,” sez I, calmly; and I jest held on to my tongue with all the strength I had; and, with that, I up and started home’ards. I never got over the ground and sensed it any less than I did then. When I am mad, I tell you I always step pretty lively. Josiah was jest startin’ fer Jonesville, when I got home. I jest walked right through the kitchen and went straight to the buro-draw in my bed-room, and took out 2 shillin’s and sez I: “Go to the book-store and get me the last number of that magazine.” “Why, where is your’n?” sez he. “There is where it is!” sez I, showin’ him the danglin’ leaves. “There is where it is!” sez I, displayin’ the mutylated picture. “There is where it is!” sez I, p’intin’ out the grease-spot. “Wal,” sez he, “I wish you would button up my shirtsleeves.” “You take it pretty cool,” sez I, as I threw off my shawl and complied with his request. “I knew just how it would be when you let her have it. You might ha’ known better than to let it go.” He spoke with aggravatin’ coolness. “Wal, you might ha’ known better than to let old Peedick have your horse-rake, and tear it all to bits,” sez I, aggravatin’ in turn. “Throw that old rake in my face agin, will you?” sez he. “How do you expect, Josiah Allen, that I am goin’ to button your shirt-sleeves, if you don’t stand still,” sez I. “Wal, then, don’t be so aggravatin’; you keep bringin’ up that old rake every time I say anything,” sez he.