"It was very hard that she was not to have her _own_ knife; it was her own knife; little sister Mary had left it to her upon her deathbed, and she ought to have had it to keep herself long ago.

But mama kept it from her, and was always letting Betsey get hold of it; and the end of it would be that Betsey would spoil it, and get it for her own, though mama had _promised_ her that Betsey should not have it in her own hands." Fanny was quite shocked.

Every feeling of duty, honour, and tenderness was wounded by her sister's speech and her mother's reply.
"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.