I AM only five years old; but I have a great deal of trouble. Papa pulls
my ears, and calls me a sad rogue; brother Tom asks me every night what
new mischief I have been up to today; and poor mamma sighs, and says I
am the most troublesome child she ever saw.
But dear good grandma looks up from her knitting, and smiles as she
says, "Tut, tut, daughter! Our Amy isn't any worse than a little girl I
knew some thirty years ago."
"O grandma!" cried I one day, "do please tell me about her; for I like
to hear about naughty little girls. What was her name, grandma?"
Grandma looked over her spectacles at mamma and smiled, and mamma nodded
and smiled back. Then grandma said, "I think I will tell you of one of
little Clara's capers; but mind, you are not to go and do the same thing
the first chance you get."