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sharpness.

"You can't tell me the name of my trade, I'll be bound," she said.

"You make pincushions," said Charley.

"What else do I make?"

"Penwipers," said his friend.

"Ha, ha! What else do I make?"

"You do something," he returned, pointing to a corner of the little
bench, "with straw; but I don't know what."

"Well done, you!" cried the person of the house. "I only make
pincushions and penwipers, to use up my waste. But my straw really does
belong to my business. Try again. What do I make with my straw?"

"Dinner-mats?"

"Dinner-mats! I'll give you a clue to my trade in a game of forfeits. I


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