Margaret and Frances lived with their papa and mamma in a pretty white
house on the side of a hill; they had a very large garden which led into
a meadow, at the bottom of which ran a beautiful river.
Every body thought them the happiest children in the world, and
certainly they might have been so, if their dispositions had been more
amiable; for their papa and mamma were very fond of them, and indulged
them in every thing proper for their age, and their friends were
continually bringing them presents of toys and dolls, or some pretty
thing or other.
They had each a little garden of their own, full of sweet flowers and
shrubs, currants, gooseberries, and strawberries. Margaret had a
squirrel, in which she took great delight, for it would jump joyfully
about its cage whenever she came near it, and would eat nuts and biscuit
out of her hand; and Frances had a beautiful canary-bird in a nice gilt
cage, which awoke her every morning with a song, and told her it was
time to rise. Margaret's nurse had brought her a white hen with eight
little chickens, and Frances had the prettiest bantams that ever were
seen.
Their mamma sent them to walk with their maid every evening, either over
the hill where the sheep and cows were feeding, or along the side of the
clear river, to pick up pebbles, to hear the merry songs of the
fishermen, and see the boats pass with the market-people, going to the
town with their fruit and their vegetables. Sometimes their papa took
them in his pleasure-boat across the river, to eat strawberries and
cream at a farm-house; and sometimes they were permitted to accompany
their mamma when she went to dine with her friends in the neighbourhood.
It is scarcely to be believed, that two children who might have lived
so happily, should have found their greatest pleasure in tormenting
each other; and though, before their parents and strangers, they
appeared to be all sweetness and good-humour, that they should have been
continually contriving how to vex and teaze each other. The moment they
were alone, they did nothing but fight and quarrel, and dispute about
trifles.
Not contented with this, whenever they were displeased, they did not
care what mischief they did, but tried, by every means in their power,
to vex each other, by spoiling and destroying every thing which came in
their way. Margaret was quite delighted when she had been running over
all Frances's garden, and treading down every thing which was growing in
it; and Frances, to be revenged on her sister, never failed to go
directly and pull up all her flowers by the roots, throw stones at her
little chickens, and tear her doll's clothes to pieces.
One day when they had had a great quarrel about some foolish thing not
worth mentioning, Margaret was so extremely angry, that she got her
mamma's ink-stand, and threw the ink all over her sister's work, and
then walked out of the room, leaving it on the table, Frances, who was
gone to ask her mamma for some thread, no sooner returned to the
parlour, and found her work in so sad a condition, but guessing
immediately how it came so, instead of seeking for her sister, and
telling her in a gentle manner how wrong she had acted, and begging that
all their quarrels might be ended, and that they might live together as
sisters should do, and endeavour to make each other happy, instead of
spending their time in vexing and teazing each other--instead of doing
this, the malicious girl thought of nothing but how she might be
revenged; and watching for a favourable opportunity, she seized on a
fine damask napkin which had been given to Margaret to hem and mark,
threw it down on the hearth, contriving to let one end of it lie over
the fender, and then began to poke the fire as violently as she could,
hoping some of the cinders would fall upon it, and burn a few holes in
it. Her wish was soon accomplished, and even beyond what she desired,
for the napkin was in an instant in a blaze, and the house in danger of
being burnt to the ground. Terrified almost to death, she began to
scream for help, and the whole family were immediately assembled in the
parlour; Margaret among the rest, with the bottom of her frock covered
with ink, though she had not perceived it, and which too plainly shewed
who had done the first mischievous exploit.
They were now both strictly examined, and their tricks soon discovered:
their papa and mamma watched them very narrowly, and found that they
were quite different when alone, to what they appeared when in their
presence; and they no longer treated them with the kindness and
indulgence they had hitherto done. Their gardens were taken from them,
the squirrel and the canary-bird given away, and the white hen, with
her little brood of chickens, sent back to the nurse: they were deprived
of all their amusements, and they had lost the good opinion of their
parents and friends, for the servants had told their story to every body
they met with, and they were never mentioned without being called the
Sly Girls, or the Little Quarrellers.