The children were always glad when Mrs. Flaharty came to wash, for she
was never too busy to talk to them, nor to let them wash dolls' clothes
in some of her suds, nor, in her own way, to converse, and to explain
things to them.

One Monday morning the two were in the back yard with gingham aprons
tied around their waists for trails, and with one of Aunty Stevens'
bright saucepans which they put on their heads in turn. In this rig,
they felt that their appearance left little to be desired.

They were having literary exercises while Mrs. Flaharty was hanging the
white clothes on the line, and, by reason of her exceeding interest in
the proceedings, she took her time about it too.

In the midst of Ethelwyn's recitation of "Mary Had a Little Lamb," she
paused to say, after, "The eager children cry,"

"What do you s'pose the silly things cried for?"

"'Cause they didn't have any lamb, prob'ly," promptly replied Elizabeth
from the audience, where she sat surrounded by her dolls. "Hurry up,
sister, it's my turn."

"Is it ager, children, you're askin' about?" asked Mrs. Flaharty,
flopping out a sheet. "If you'd ever had the ager, what wid the pain in
your bones an' the faver in your blood, you'd be likely to cry--whin you
had the stren'th."

"Is it shaking ager?" asked Elizabeth doubtfully. "Oh, I didn't know
that. Come and sit down on the steps, Mrs. Flaharty, and I'll tell a