Here was a complication, for Tommy liked to retail to Bridget the gossip of the day, and especially what "pa said."
"H'm—ah—oh yes, indeed, she is, Tommy," the Idiot replied, with some embarrassment. "Very; she's been with us three months."
"How much do you pay her, pa?" asked the boy.
"Well," said the Idiot, "not more than fifteen hundred dollars a month. Just take another griddle-cake, my son, and remember that there are some things little boys should not talk about."
"Like tumpany's bald heads?" lisped Mollie, complacently, her eye fixed upon Mr. Pedagog's shining dome.
"Precisely," observed Mr. Pedagog, appreciating the situation.
And while everybody else laughed the Idiot looked upon his children with a sternly affectionate face.
"My dear," said he to Mrs. Idiot, "I think it is time the babies got ready for Sunday-school."