little partner had a little wife and a large family. He kept them in the
little cottage next to ours; and that the shanty survived the tumultuous
presence of that brood is a wonder to me to-day. The young Wilners
included an assortment of boys, girls, and twins, of every possible
variety of age, size, disposition, and sex. They swarmed in and out of
the cottage all day long, wearing the door-sill hollow, and trampling
the ground to powder. They swung out of windows like monkeys, slid up
the roof like flies, and shot out of trees like fowls. Even a small
person like me couldn't go anywhere without being run over by a Wilner;
and I could never tell which Wilner it was because none of them ever
stood still long enough to be identified; and also because I suspected
that they were in the habit of interchanging conspicuous articles of
clothing, which was very confusing.

You would suppose that the little mother must have been utterly lost,
bewildered, trodden down in this horde of urchins; but you are mistaken.
Mrs. Wilner was a positively majestic little person. She ruled her brood
with the utmost coolness and strictness. She had even the biggest boy
under her thumb, frequently under her palm. If they enjoyed the wildest
freedom outdoors, indoors the young Wilners lived by the clock. And so
at five o'clock in the evening, on seven days in the week, my father's
partner's children could be seen in two long rows around the supper
table. You could tell them apart on this occasion, because they all had
their faces washed. And this is the time to count them: there are twelve
little Wilners at table.

I managed to retain my identity in this multitude somehow, and while I
was very much impressed with their numbers, I even dared to pick and
choose my friends among the Wilners. One or two of the smaller boys I
liked best of all, for a game of hide-and-seek or a frolic on the beach.