“Will you bring Daniel to see me to-morrow, James?” she said, as Camilla handed him his pail.  “I would like to speak to his young mind and endeavour to plant the seeds of virtue and honesty in that fertile soil.”

When Jimmy got home he told Pearlie of his interview with the pink lady, as much as he could remember.  The only thing that he was sure of was that she wanted to see Danny, and that she had said something about planting seeds in him.

Jimmy and Pearlie thought it best not to mention Danny’s proposed visit to their mother, for they knew that she would be fretting about his clothes, and would be sitting up mending and sewing for him when she should be sleeping.  So they resolved to say “nothin’ to nobody.”

The next day their mother went away early to wash for the Methodist minister’s wife, and that was always a long day’s work.

Then the work of preparation began on Danny.  A wash-basin full of snow was put on the stove to melt, and Danny was put in the high chair which was always the place of his ablutions.

Pearlie began to think aloud.  “Bugsey, your stockin’s are the best.  Off wid them, Mary, and mend the hole in the knees of them, and, Bugsey, hop into bed for we’ll be needin’ your pants anyway.  It’s awful stylish for a little lad like Danny to be wearin’ pants under his dresses, and now what about boots?  Let’s see yours, Patsey.  They’re all gone in the uppers, and Billy’s are too big, even if they were here, but they’re off to school on him.  I’ll tell you what Mary, hurry up wid that sock o’ Ted’s and we’ll draw them on him over Bugsey’s boots and purtind they’re overstockin’s, and I’ll carry him all the way so’s not to dirty them.”

Mary stopped her dish-washing, and drying her hands on the thin towel that hung over the looking glass, found her knitting and began to knit at the top of her speed.

“Isn’t it good we have that dress o’ his, so good yet, that he got when we had all of yez christened.  Put the irons on there Mary; never mind, don’t stop your knittin’.  I’ll do it myself.  We’ll press it out a bit, and we can put ma’s handkerchief, the one pa gev her for Christmas, around his neck, sort o’ sailor collar style, to show he’s a boy.  And now the snow is melted, I’ll go at him.  Don’t cry now Danny, man, yer going’ up to the big house where the lovely pink lady lives that has the chocaklut drops on her stand and chunks of cake on the table wid nuts in them as big as marbles.  There now,” continued Pearlie, putting the towel over her finger and penetrating Danny’s ear, “she’ll not say she can plant seeds in you.  Yer ears are as clean as hers,” and Pearlie stood back and took a critical view of Danny’s ears front and back.

“Chockaluts?” asked Danny to be sure that he hadn’t been mistaken.

“Yes,” went on Pearlie to keep him still while she fixed his shock of red hair into stubborn little curls, and she told again with ever growing enthusiasm the story of the pink lady, and the wonderful things she had in the box tied up with store string.