ding that there were mice inside the paper bag which I knew to be empty, I confess that I had no heart or imagination for these diversions.
"Of course, you know best, mother," I used to say; "but it does seem to me a dreadful waste of time. We might be much better employed."
"How better employed?" asked my mother severely.
"Why," I answered, "in eating or sleeping."
At first my mother used to box my ears, and insist on my learning such little accomplishments as she thought necessary for my station in life.
"You see," she would say, "all this playing with tails and reels and balls of worsted is a preparation for the real business of life."
"What is that?" asked my sister.
"Mouse-catching," said my mother very earnestly.
"There are no mice here," I said, stretching myself.
"No, but you will not always be here; and if you practise the little tricks I show you now with the ball of worsted and the tips of our tails, then, when the great hour comes, and
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