"No 'taint," said the boy. "Guess again."
"You'll never pay anybody for much trouble that way," said Mrs. Somers dipping in the corresponding saucer. "Jenny—did you ever hear of anybody's getting along in a dish-tub without a mop?"
"Who is it wants to know, sir?" said Mr. Somers politely. "Who is your father?"
"He's farmer Davids."
"Oh! and are you Phil?"
"Yes! What be I goin' to tell her?"—This interrogatory being sent in the direction of the dish-tub.
"Why you can tell her two things," said Mrs. Somers, eying Phil from head to foot. "In the first place, the Society'll meet down at Miss Bezac's; and in the second, as soon as your mother'll teach her children how to behave themselves I shall be very glad to see them."
"The Society'll meet down to Miss Purcell's?"
"Miss Bezac's"—said Mrs. Somers, preserving a cheerful and brisk equanimity in the midst of her sharp words that was quite delightful. "Pay more attention to your lessons, Phil Davids, and you'll be a better boy, if you look sharp."
"What lessons?" said the boy blackly.