"Because, Hannah, Stubbins wouldn't know no more how to act up against a tablecloth than one of his own pigs."
"We could learn," ventured Chinky.
Hannah took courage. "Listen, ma," said she, "Miss Randall says she never saw such bright children as we are. She says it's 'mazing the way we learn, only she hopes that when Stubbins gets old enough to go to school he won't keep his pockets loaded full of frogs and toads, the way he does now. Well, if we can learn geography and figures and history things and birds, why can't we learn tablecloths?"
Mrs. Mulvaney shook her head. "You have to be born to tablecloths," said she.
"Hannah wasn't born to big, wide, pink dresses and bows on her hair," announced Chinky, "but look at her, ma, you'd think she'd worn 'em all her life. Not as you need to think you're so smart, Hannah, but I'm talking about tablecloths and being like other folks. Guess I use my eyes when I take home washings, and go after 'em."
"Now, ma, look here. Let's vote about it with grass. All that wants to be pigs and never know nothing go and put a long blade of grass in ma's lap. All what wants to learn manners, put a little, teenty, weenty piece of grass in her lap."
The voting began before Mrs. Mulvaney had time to say a word.
"It's for tablecloths and manners," said Mrs. Mulvaney, pretending that the bits of grass were too small to be seen. "And if we use tablecloths the first one that spills anything may get his head knocked off."
Mrs. Mulvaney had seen her neighbour go home across the fields. Turning to Hannah she changed the subject. "Since you're all dressed up," she said, "I suppose you wouldn't mind going over to Mr. Hodgkins's on an errand. I bet he'd like a loaf of gingerbread. I made some yesterday for the boys. Now remember, Hannah, be nice and polite, and you, too, Stubbins, for you can go along seeing's you are all fixed up for Sunday. That man could turn us out of our good home if he wanted to, and you young ones must get on the right side of him. Mind that."