Oud, goodness knows! Your uncle is on the _po_lice force o' New York
city; you can take up the paper most any day an' see his name printed
right out--James McGrill,--'n' I can't have my children fetched up
common, like some folks'; when they go out they've got to have clo'es,
and learn to act decent! Now I want ter see how yer goin' to behave when
yer git there to-night. 'Tain't so awful easy as you think 'tis. Let's
start in at the beginnin' 'n' act out the whole business. Pile into the
bedroom, there, every last one o' ye, 'n' show me how yer goin' to go
int' the parlor. This'll be the parlor, 'n' I'll be Mis' Bird."
[Illustration: "I WANT TER SEE HOW YER GOIN' TER BEHAVE"] The youngsters
hustled into the next room in high glee, and Mrs. Ruggles drew herself
up in the chair with an infinitely haughty and purse-proud expression
that much better suited a descendant of the McGrills than modest Mrs.
Bird. The bedroom was small, and there presently ensued such a clatter
that you would have thought a herd of wild cattle had broken loose. The
door opened, and they straggled in, all the younger ones giggling, with
Sarah Maud at the head, looking as if she had been caught in the act of
stealing sheep; while Larry, being last in line, seemed to think the
door a sort of gate of heaven which would be shut in his face if he
didn't get there in time; accordingly he struggled ahead of his elders
and disgraced himself by tumbling in head foremost. Mrs. Ruggles looked
severe. "There, I knew yer'd do it in some sech fool way! Now go in
there and try it over again, every last one o' ye, 'n' if Larry can't
come in on two legs he can stay ter home,
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