and a girl with black eyes and white teeth all smiley used to take it from him, and put it in a lovely pitcher with birds flying all over it.  But one day the lady, herself, was there all dressed in lovely pink velvet and lace, and a train as long as from me to you, and she sez to Jimmy, sez she, ’Have you any sisters or brothers at home,’ and Jim speaks up real proud-like, ‘Just nine,’ he sez, and sez she, swate as you please, ’Oh, that’s lovely!  Are they all as purty as you?’ she sez, and Jimmy sez, ‘Purtier if anything,’ and she sez, ‘I’ll be steppin’ over to-day to see yer ma,’ and Jim ran home and told them all, and they all got brushed and combed and actin’ good, and in she comes, laving her carriage at the dure, and her in a long pink velvet cape draggin’ behind her on the flure, and wide white fer all around it, her silk skirts creakin’ like a bag of cabbage and the eyes of her just dancin’ out of her head, and she says, ’These are fine purty childer ye have here, Mrs. Watson.  This is a rale purty girl, this oldest one.  What’s her name?’ and ma ups and tells her it is Rebecca Jane Pearl, named for her two grandmothers, and Pearl just for short.  She says, ’I’ll be for taking you home wid me, Pearlie, to play the pianny for me,’ and then she asks all around what the children’s names is, and then she brings out a big box, from under her cape, all tied wid store string, and she planks it on the table and tearin’ off the string, she sez, ’Now, Pearlie, it’s ladies first, tibby sure.  What would you like to see in here?’ And I says up quick—­ ‘A long coat wid fer on it, and a handkerchief smellin’ strong of satchel powder,’ and she whipped them out of the box and threw them on my knee, and a new pair of red mitts too.  And then she says, ’Mary, acushla, it’s your turn now.’  And Mary says, ’A doll with a real head on it,’ and there it was as big as Danny, all dressed in green satin, opening its eyes, if you plaze.”

“Now, me!” roared Danny, squirming in his chair.

“‘Daniel Mulcahey Watson, what wud you like?’ she says, and Danny ups and says, ’Chockaluts and candy men and taffy and curren’ buns and ginger bread,’ and she had every wan of them.”

“’Robert Roblin Watson, him as they call Bugsey, what would you like?’ and ’Patrick Healy Watson, as is called Patsey, what is your choice?’ says she, and—­”

In the confusion that ensued while these two young gentlemen thus referred to stated their modest wishes, their mother came in, tired and pale, from her hard day’s work.

“How is the pink lady to-day, ma?” asked Pearlie, setting Danny down and beginning operations on Bugsey.

“Oh, she’s as swate as ever, an’ can talk that soft and kind about children as to melt the heart in ye.”

Danny crept up on his mother’s knee “Ma, did she give ye pie?” he asked, wistfully.

“Yes, me beauty, and she sent this to you wid her love,” and Mrs. Watson took a small piece out of a newspaper from under her cape.  It was the piece that had been set on the kitchen table for Mrs. Watson’s dinner.  Danny called them all to have a bite.