"Well, how'd you like it?"
"Not for me, ma, I'm going to raise hens and turkeys, and I don't want to take on any more schooling than I have to. What I'm going to be is a rich farmer. Hannah, she can go to college," and Chinky grinned.
"I shouldn't be a mite surprised," added Mrs. Mulvaney, "if it all happens."
"What's getting into you, ma?" asked the boy. "You're talking just like Sally Brown. I know she thinks that smarty brother of hers'll be the President of the United States."
"Hoping," agreed Mrs. Mulvaney, wiping the dust from two little rockers that she decided would fit Nora and Dora, "hoping is just as Sally Brown says; it won't do one mite of harm, and I hope to see my seven children amounting to something in the world. My! This is a pleasant room. Just see the view from the bay-window. That poor man, to be living here all alone! What are you laughing at, Chinky?"
"Well, ma, let me tell you. The other night Stubbins and I were over here helping Mr. Hodgkins feed the pigs,—you know he has about twenty-five,—and of course Stubbins he loves the pigs. Well, Mr. Hodgkins said 'Stubbins, you'd better come over here, and live with me. I'll give you all the pigs if you will,' but Stubbins wouldn't do it; he said, 'even with the pigth it would be too lonethome."
"And Mr. Hodgkins," inquired Mrs. Mulvaney, putting the tin horn in a box, and wondering if Mike would ever have a chance to blow it, "what did he say?"
"Oh, nothing much, he laughed and said something about our being lucky kids, and he didn't blame Stubbins for wanting to stay with his ma."
Mrs. Mulvaney, with her back to Chinky, nodded her head and squinted her eyes curiously, then turned a big rocking-chair around and sat down for a moment.
"Well, ma, thinking of buying the chair, are you?"