"Now, Susan," cried Mrs. Price, in a complaining voice, "now, how can you be so cross? You are always quarrelling about that knife. I wish you would not be so quarrelsome. Poor little Betsey; how cross Susan is to you! But you should not have taken it out, my dear, when I sent you to the drawer. You know I told you not to touch it, because Susan is so cross about it. I must hide it another time, Betsey. Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep, only two hours before she died. Poor little soul! she could but just speak to be heard, and she said so prettily, 'Let sister Susan have my knife, mama, when I am dead and buried.' Poor little dear! she was so fond of it, Fanny, that she would have it lay by her in bed, all through her illness. It was the gift of her good godmother, old Mrs. Admiral Maxwell, only six weeks before she was taken for death. Poor little sweet creature! Well, she was taken away from evil to come. My own Betsey" (fondling her), "_you_ have not the luck of such a good godmother. Aunt Norris lives too far off to think of such little people as you."

"Now, Susan," cried Mrs. Price, in a complaining voice, "how can you be so cross? You are always quarrelling about that knife. Poor little Betsey; how cross Susan is to you! But you should not have taken it out of the drawer, my dear. You know I told you not to touch it, because Susan is so cross about it. I must hide it another time, Betsey. Poor Mary little thought it would be such a bone of contention when she gave it me to keep. Poor little soul! She said, 'Let sister Susan have my knife, mama, when I am dead.' She was so fond of it, Fanny, that she would have it lay by her in bed, all through her illness. It was the gift of her godmother. Poor little sweet creature! Well, she was taken away from evil to come. My own Betsey, you have not the luck of such a good godmother. Aunt Norris lives too far off to think of such little people as you."
