"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 Ezra Jonathan. 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!"