make yerself good comp'ny?" "Do? Me? Dunno!" said Cornelius, turning
pale, with unexpected responsibility. "Well, ye ain't goin' to set there
like a bump on a log 'thout sayin' a word ter pay for yer vittles, air
ye? Ask Mis' Bird how she's feelin' this evenin', or if Mr. Bird's
hevin' a busy season, or how this kind o' weather agrees with him, or
somethin' like that.--Now we'll make b'lieve we've got ter the
dinner--that won't be so hard, 'cause yer'll have somethin' to do--it's
awful bothersome to stan' round an' act stylish.--If they have napkins,
Sarah Maud down to Peory may put 'em in their laps, 'n' the rest of ye
can tuck 'em in yer necks. Don't eat with yer fingers--don't grab no
vittles off one 'nother's plates; don't reach out for nothin', but wait
till yer asked, 'n' if you never _git_ asked don't git up and grab
it.--Don't spill nothin' on the tablecloth, or like's not Mis' Bird'll
send yer away from the table--'n' I hope she will if yer do! (Susan!
keep your handkerchief in your lap where Peory can borry it if she needs
it, 'n' I hope she'll know when she does need it, though I don't expect
it.) Now we'll try a few things ter see how they'll go! Mr. Clement, do
you eat cramb'ry sarse?" "Bet yer life!" cried Clem, who in the
excitement of the moment had not taken in the idea exactly and had
mistaken this for an ordinary bosom-of-the-family question. "Clement
McGrill Ruggles, do you mean to tell me that you'd say that to a
dinner-party? I'll give ye one more chance. Mr. Clement, will you take
some of the cramb'ry?" "Yes, marm, thank
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