spite of the bumps and ragged clothes which resulted. In fact, there was
just one half-hour of the day when Aunt Izzie was really satisfied about
her charges, and that was the half-hour before breakfast, when she had
made a law that they were all to sit in their little chairs and learn
the Bible verse for the day. At this time she looked at them with
pleased eyes, they were all so spick and span, with such nicely-brushed
jackets and such neatly-combed hair. But the moment the bell rang her
comfort was over. From that time on, they were what she called "not fit
to be seen." The neighbors pitied her very much. They used to count the
sixty stiff white pantalette legs hung out to dry every Monday morning,
and say to each other what a sight of washing those children made, and
what a chore it must be for poor Miss Carr to keep them so nice. But
poor Miss Carr didn't think them at all nice; that was the worst of it.

"Clover, go up stairs and wash your hands! Dorry, pick your hat off the
floor and hang it on the nail! Not that nail--the third nail from the
corner!" These were the kind of things Aunt Izzie was saying all day
long. The children minded her pretty well, but they didn't exactly love
her, I fear. They called her "Aunt Izzie" always, never "Aunty." Boys
and girls will know what _that_ meant.

I want to show you the little Carrs, and I don't know that I could ever
have a better chance than one day when five out of the six were perched
on top of the ice-house, like chickens on a roost. This ice-house was
one of their favorite places. It was only a low roof set over a hole in
the ground, and, as it stood in the middle of the side-yard, it always
seemed to the children that the shortest road to every place was up one
of its slopes and down the other. They also liked to mount to the
ridge-pole, and then, still keeping the sitting position, to let go, and
scrape slowly down over the warm shingles to the ground. It was bad for