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?"