the youngest four, and it so happened that the beginning and the end
of the string were boys, the three in between being Mary, Maud, and
Kate.

Mrs. Bingle helped them off with their coats and caps and mufflers,
then hugged them and lugged them up to the fire, while Melissa removed
her skunk tippet, her poney coat and a hat that would have created
envy in the soul of a less charitable creature than the mistress of
the house.

"And now," said Mr. Bingle, confronting the group, "who made you?"

"God, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, very much after the habit of
a dog that is ordered to "speak."

"And who was it that said, 'Suffer little children to come unto me?'"

"Jesus, Mr. Bingle," said the five Sykeses, eyeing the pile on the
table.

"And where do you expect to go when you die?" demanded Mr. Bingle,
with great severity.

"Heaven!" shouted the perfectly healthy Sykeses.

"How is your mother, Mary?" asked Mrs. Bingle, always a rational
woman.

Mary bobbed. "She's working, ma'am," said she, and that was all she
knew about her mother's state of health.