impudent answer was jerked out, to the great amusement of the others,
who laughed immoderately.

It suited Mrs. Roberts to treat the reply with perfect seriousness and
composure.

"That is very true," she said, courteously; "but at the same time I
venture to hope that since you know nothing ill of me as yet, you will
receive me into a sort of conditional friendship, with the understanding
that I remain your friend until I am guilty of some conduct that ought
to justify you in deserting me. I am sure you cannot object to that; and
now, if we are to be friends, we should know each other's names. I am
Mrs. Evan Roberts, and I live at No. 76 East Fifty-fifth Street. I shall
be glad to see you at my house whenever you would like to call on me.
Now, will one of you be kind enough to introduce himself and the class?
Perhaps you will introduce me to your friends?"

She looked directly at the ringleader.

"Certainly! certainly, mum!" he replied, briskly. "This is Mr. Carrot
Pumpkins, at your service, mum--this fellow on my left, I mean; rather a
queer name, I dare say you think. It all came of his being fond of
sitting astride of a pumpkin when he was a little shaver, and of his
hair being exactly the color of carrots as you can see for yourself. And
this fellow on my right is Mr. Champion Chawer, so called because he can
make the biggest run on tobacco of any of the set, taking him day in and
day out. That fellow at your elbow is 'Slippery Jim.' We don't call him
'Mister,' because he doesn't stay long enough in one place to have it
tacked on to him. He is such a slippery scamp that an eel is nowhere,
compared to him."