"My name is Mrs. Dumps," replied the guest, "an' this is my little boy, an' these is my little girls."
"Oh, Dumps, you play so cur'us," said Diddie; "who ever heard of anybody bein' named Mrs. Dumps? there ain't no name like that."
"Well, I don't know nothin' else," said Dumps; "I couldn't think of nothin'."
"Sposin' you be named Mrs. Washington, after General Washington?" said Diddie, who was now studying a child's history of America, and was very much interested in it.
"All right," said Dumps; and Mrs. Washington, with her son and daughters, was assigned apartments, and Chris was sent up with refreshments, composed of pieces of old cotton-bolls and gray moss, served on bits of broken china.
The omnibus now returned with Tot and her family, consisting of an India-rubber baby with a very cracked face, and a rag body that had once sported a china head, and now had no head of any kind; but it was nicely dressed, and there were red shoes on the feet, and it answered Tot's purpose very well.
"Dese my 'itty dirls," said Tot, as Diddie received her, "an' I tome in de bumberbuss."
"What is your name?" asked Diddie.
"I name—I name—I name—Miss Ginhouse," said Tot, who had evidently never thought of a name, and had suddenly decided upon gin-house, as her eye fell upon that object.
"No, no, Tot, that's a thing; that ain't no name for folks," said Diddie. "Let's play you're Mrs. Bunker Hill, that's a nice name."