“Yes, the China Mug was really and truly our China Mug on the left corner of the shelf in the kitchen of The Little Brown House. It was a very old mug, oh! I don’t know how many years old, two or three hundred, I guess; for you see it was our father’s mug when he was a little boy, and his father had it when he was a little boy, and”—
“Did they all drink their milk from it?” broke in little Dick, forgetting all about the indignity of having his head plastered up with bits of wet brown paper; “all those little boys, Polly?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Polly; “for you see they were all called Samuel, and every Samuel in the family had this mug, so”—
“I wish I could be Samuel, and have a mug that was in The Little Brown House,” said Dick reflectively.
“Well, it had a funny twisted handle,” said Polly, hurrying on; “and oh! the loveliest lady with a pink sash, and long, floating hair; and she had a basket of roses on one arm, and she was picking up her gown and courtesying just like this.” Polly jumped to her feet, and executed a most remarkable courtesy.
“Was she standing on the handle?” asked Percy, who had a fancy for all minute details.
“Oh, dear me, no!” said Polly, laughing merrily; and she nearly fell on her nose, as she was just finishing the courtesy; “she couldn’t stand on the handle. She was on the front of the China Mug, to be sure; and there was a most beautiful little man, and he had a cocked hat under his arm, and he was bowing to her as she courtesied.”
“Tell how the beautiful little man bowed,” begged the children. So Polly, who had hopped into her seat, had to jump up again, and show them just exactly how [the beautiful little man], with the cocked hat under his arm, bowed to [the lovely lady] with a pink sash on, and a basket of roses hanging on her arm. Then she hurried back, quite tired out, to her place.