Littleby little Mrs. Mulvaney remembered her old country home. Little by little the springtime breezes, sweet and fresh, smoothed the wrinkles from her brow, and softened her voice.
"Thay, ma," declared Stubbins one Sunday morning, when the birds were singing from every swaying branch, and the green world seemed bursting with joy, "Thay, do you know I think you're motht ath pretty ath Mitheth Brown, and Mr. Hodgkinth he thay—"
Here Hannah put in a few words. "Ma, I do wish you had a best dress. We live in such a nice house and everything, I wish—"
"Go on, Stubbins," interrupted Mrs. Mulvaney, "what did Mr. Hodgkins say?"
"He thay he thinkth I've got a awful nithe ma."
"Pshaw, now, what makes him think so?"
"Well, he thay that ever thinthe he thed he'd give uth milk, if we'd come after it, he can't help but notithe that uth kidth ith alwayth clean when we come over there, and he thay it sthpeakth well for our ma."
"There now, is that all he says?"
"Oh, no, he thay he likth to have uth live here. He thed he wath afraid uth kidth would be a nuithanth and he ith 'greeably thurprithed. He thayth we do what he tellth uth to and he thinkth we'll all be farmerth we learn thingth tho quick. I think we're pretty nithe kidth mythelf."
"You are improving," admitted Mrs. Mulvaney. "What does Mr. Hodgkins think of our garden?"
"Oh, he thayth he thinkth ith fine. He thayth the way our ma keepth tho many kidth bithy ith wonderful. He thays too when he theeth the clotheth on the line after you hang them up, they ith tho white, ith like thnow, and he thay no wonder you get work to do. I thed uth kidth help a lot."
"Stubbins," questioned Mrs. Mulvaney with a curious look in her eyes as she gazed over the broad fields and orchards belonging to Mr. Welcome Hodgkins, "What does he say when you young ones tell him that I'm—that I'm apt to be cross, and that you get all the spankings you deserve, hey?"
Stubbins laughed. "Thay, ma, do you th'pothe uth kidth ever tell about our lickunth? Well, I geth not! You mutht think we're thilly! But thay, ma, thereth one thing Mithter Hodgkinth thay he can't understand?"
"Well, what is it?"
"He thayth he thinkth ith queer a thivilithed woman like you couldn't get nameth for all of uth kidth. He thayth Thubbinth ithn't a name and he thay how did I come by it?"
Mrs. Mulvaney caught Stubbins by the shoulders and shook him. "You simpleton!" said she, "why didn't you know enough to tell him your real name slipped your memory, that your folks called you Stubbins when you were little because you were always stubbing your unlucky toes."
"Why, ma!" protested Hannah, "Henever was named; you know Stubbins is the only name he's got."
Mrs. Mulvaney threw her slipper at Hannah. "You know a lot, don't you, Miss? Now listen, all of you. Johnnie, Mike, come here. You seem to have forgotten this boy's name."
"He ain't never had no name," declared Johnnie, dodging behind Chinky to escape the spanking he seemed to expect when his mother looked at him as she did at that moment.
"You donkeys!" exclaimed Mrs. Mulvaney. "Dust out your ears now and you'll hear something. Stubbins's real name is Moses Aaron Mulvaney. Do you hear, Stubbins? Your meetin'-house name is Moses. When you start school, your name is Moses. When a man asks who you are, answer Moses. Do you understand?"
"Oh, oh," wailed Stubbins, "Oh, thaketh alive, my name ith Motheth! Oh, thay, ma, I don't want Motheth for my name. Motheth, Motheth, Motheth!"
"Oh, ma," besought Hannah, "think up another. Don't let's have that for his name. Let's call him Willie or—"
"Hannah," insisted Mrs. Mulvaney, "that boy's name is Moses Aaron Mulvaney. You can't change names. Maybe now you'd like to be called Aribella or Fiddle-de-dee, but you're Hannah and he's Moses!"
"Oh. Motheth, Motheth, Motheth!" grumbled Stubbins. "Oh, thaketh alive, Motheth!"
"What's Chink's name, ma?" demanded Mike, with a gleeful grin which lasted but a minute, owing to a pinch from Chinky which changed the expression of his face. "Ouw—" he began.
"Shut up!" warned Chinky, "don't you know enough to keep your mouth shut?"
"Yeth," said Stubbins, "if I've got to be Motheth, who ith he?"
"Don't you remember?" asked Mrs. Mulvaney, "why, Chinky's name is Ezra Jonathan."
"Ezra Jonathan!" groaned Chinky, his red hair and freckles looking startled. "Oh, ma!"
"The idea of trying to be folks and not knowing your own names. I guess you'll remember 'em now, Moses Aaron and EzraJonathan. Not's I care what Mr. Hodgkins thinks, 'cause it's none of his business what your names are. But just the same you want to do everything you can to keep on the right side of him on account of our living in his house. You make yourselves useful to him and don't never be sassy or he might turn us out. Mind that. You show him what a comfort children can be, don't never do what he don't want you to, and always do what he tells you to."
Five children cheerfully promised to do as their mother advised, but poor Chinky and Stubbins simply grunted an assent, followed a minute later by two exclamations.
"Ezra Jonathan!"
"Oh, Motheth!"