what kind of a family the McGrills was. I've got reason to be
proud, goodness knows! Your uncle is on the _po_lice force o' New York
city; you can take up the paper most any day an' see his name printed
right out--James McGrill,--'n' I can't have my children fetched up
common, like some folks'; when they go out they've got to have clo'es,
and learn to act decent! Now I want ter see how yer goin' to behave when
yer git there to-night. 'Tain't so awful easy as you think 'tis. Let's
start in at the beginnin' 'n' act out the whole business.
Pile into the bedroom, there, every last one o' ye, 'n' show me how yer
goin' to go int' the parlor. This'll be the parlor, 'n' I'll be Mis'
Bird."

[Illustration: "I WANT TER SEE HOW YER GOIN' TER BEHAVE"]

The youngsters hustled into the next room in high glee, and Mrs. Ruggles
drew herself up in the chair with an infinitely haughty and purse-proud
expression that much better suited a descendant of the McGrills than
modest Mrs. Bird.

The bedroom was small, and there presently ensued such a clatter that
you would have thought a herd of wild cattle had broken loose. The door
opened, and they straggled in, all the younger ones giggling, with Sarah
Maud at the head, looking as if she had been caught in the act of
stealing sheep; while Larry, being last in line, seemed to think the
door a sort of gate of heaven which would be shut in his face if he
didn't get there in time; accordingly he struggled ahead of his elders
and disgraced himself by tumbling in head foremost.

Mrs. Ruggles looked severe. "There, I knew yer'd do it in some sech fool
way! Now go in there and try it over again, every last one o' ye, 'n' if
Larry can't come in on two legs he can stay ter home,--d' yer hear?"

The matter began to assume a graver aspect; the little Ruggleses stopped
giggling and backed into the bedroom, issuing presently with lock step,
Indian file, a scared and hunted expression on every countenance.

"No, no, no!" cried Mrs. Ruggles, in despair. "That's worse yet;
yer look for all the world like a gang o' pris'ners! There ain't
no style ter that: spread out more, can't yer, 'n' act kind o'
careless-like--nobody's goin' ter kill ye! That ain't what a
dinner-party is!"

The third time brought deserved success, and the pupils took their seats
in the row. "Now, yer know," said Mrs. Ruggles impressively, "there
ain't enough decent hats to go round, 'n' if there was I don' know's I'd
let yer wear