In the meantime Hannah made clothes-racks of Nora and Dora. Fearing she might have to carry the rusty tin pails herself, she asked her mother what she wished to put in them for the twins to take.
"Provisions," was the reply, "you can pack up the bread and whatever's left in the cupboards. Get your own extra clothes on right lively now. You're to carry pa's picture. The frame ain't heavy and you know how to be careful."
"Maybe I better take the pails an' you carry the picture," objected Hannah. "I'm afraid I might spoil it. It's all I can do to manage my arms on 'count of so many sleeves."
"I'll take the picture," offered Chinky, trying to evade the mop, broom, clothes-line, pole, and clothes-pin basket his mother thrust upon him.
"You'll carry what I say," declared Mrs. Mulvaney, putting on all the garments she owned. Then she packed Mr. Mulvaney's old satchel so full the sides burst.
"I can tie it up," said she, tearing a strip from a ragged blanket for the purpose. "I'll have to carry pa's satchel and make these quilts and things into a bundle. There now! there are two of your pa's old coats. Who'll take 'em? Can't carry 'em, you say, got your hands full? I'll fix it, Chinky, you can wear one and Hannah can wear the other. Hold still and I'll button them around you. They're just short enough so they won't drag."
"Look here, ma?" offered Chinky, "you roll 'em up in a tight bundle and I guess I can carry 'em after all."
"I thought you could manage," agreed Mrs. Mulvaney. "You see we're going where I may get some time to do fancy work, and I'm thinking of making rugs of pa's old coats to remember him by."
"Oh, ma, look at us!" wailed Hannah when the procession was ready to start. "Have we got to go looking like this?"