For great, great is the mystery of boardin'-house hash.
Not a-mindin' the children's noise—indeed, a-courtin' it, as you may say, for he would coax the youngest and most troublesome one away from its tired mother sometimes, and keep it by him at the table, and wait on it.
He thought his eyes of children, so Miss Plank said.
I might have thought that he took care of the child on its mother's account, out of sentiment instead of pity, if Miss Schack hadn't been as humbly as humbly could be, and a big wart on the end of her nose, and a cowlick. She had three children, and they wuz awful, awful to git along with.
Her husband "wuz on the road," she said. And we couldn't any of us really make out from what she said what he wuz a-doin' there, whether he wuz a-movin' along on it to his work, or jest a-settin' there.
But anyway she talked a good deal about his "bein' on the road," and how much better the children behaved "before he went on it."
They jest rid over her, and over us too, if we would let 'em.
They wuz the awfullest children I ever laid eyes on, for them that had such pious and well-meanin' names.
There wuz John Wesley, and Martin Luther, and little Peter Cooper Schack.