propensity to keep running into the nursery, to play with her
little sisters and the nurse. This was natural enough, but, as it
was against her mother's express desire, I, of course, forbade her
to do so, and did my utmost to keep her with me; but that only
increased her relish for the nursery, and the more I strove to keep
her out of it, the oftener she went, and the longer she stayed, to
the great dissatisfaction of Mrs. Bloomfield, who, I well knew,
would impute all the blame of the matter to me. Another of my
trials was the dressing in the morning: at one time she would not
be washed; at another she would not be dressed, unless she might
wear some particular frock, that I knew her mother would not like
her to have; at another she would scream and run away if I
attempted to touch her hair. So that, frequently, when, after much
trouble and toil, I had, at length, succeeded in bringing her down,
the breakfast was nearly half over; and black looks from 'mamma,'
and testy observations from 'papa,' spoken at me, if not to me,
were sure to be my meed: for few things irritated the latter so
much as want of punctuality at meal times. Then, among the minor
annoyances, was my inability to satisfy Mrs. Bloomfield with her
daughter's dress; and the child's hair 'was never fit to be seen.'
Sometimes, as a powerful reproach to me, she would perform the
office of tire woman herself, and then complain bitterly of the
trouble it gave her.

When little Fanny came into the schoolroom, I hoped she would be
mild and inoffensive, at least; but a few days, if not a few hours,
sufficed to destroy the illusion: I found her a mischievous,
intractable little creature, given up to falsehood and deception,
young as she was, and alarmingly fond of exercising her two
favourite weapons of offence and defence: that of spitting in the