I blame them," Keturah Wood shrugged her shapely
shoulders.

"Did _you_ quit her?"

"No, I never took milk from there."

"Ain't it good milk?"

"It ought to be. Their cow is a Holstein and gives lots of milk. But
someway I can't stomach the children."

"Can't stomach the children?" echoed Peace wonderingly.

"They are so dirty," Mrs. Wood explained in apologetic tones. "Mrs. McGee
used to keep them as neat as pins when I first came here to live, and
her kitchen was simply spotless. But she has too much to attend to now,
and the children run wild."

"Would you get your milk there if they were clean?"

"Possibly. My milkman isn't real dependable. Sometimes there will be
three or four days in a month when I can't get all I need, and if I ever
want any extra, I always have to tell him two or three days before. The
McGees seem to be able to supply a body at any time with any amount. But
no one enjoys having such inexcusably dirty children bring their milk
even if they _know_ the milk itself is absolutely clean. Somehow it
takes away one's appetite."

"Why don't that big girl keep the others clean? She's old enough, ain't
she?"

"She's too lazy. They all are. They fight all day sometimes over whose
turn it is to carry the milk or bring in the wood. Mrs. McGee never has
trained them to help her a bit, and though Ophelia is past twelve years
old, she is as useless as the baby when it comes to doing the
housework."

"Ophelia--ain't that a funny name!"

"Ridiculous!" laughed Mrs. Wood. "But so are all the rest. Having no
fortune to endow his children with, old Pat McGee gave his offspring as
'high-toned and iligent names as iver belonged to rich folks.' They are
Ophelia and Tobias, Antonio and Augustus, Lavinia and Humphrey, and the
poor little babe Nadene. Commonly they are known as Feely, Toby, Tony,
Gus, Vinie, Humpy and Deanie. Their real names are just for dress-up
occasions."

"It takes me back to Parker days," said Gail reminiscently. "Only the
McGees are worse off than the Greenfields were, for there are seven of
them and all so small. What would happen if the mother should slip away
as our mother did?"

"O, the orphan asylum would open its doors, of course. But even at that
they might stand a better chance than they do now. They never will
amount to anything, growing up as they are, like weeds. She can't give
them the attention they ought to have, and she is not teaching them to
be independent or help