Pearlie began to think aloud. "Bugsey, your stockin's
are the best. Off wid them, Mary, and mend the hole in
the knees of them, and, Bugsey, hop into bed for we'll
be needin' your pants anyway. It's awful stylish for a
little lad like Danny to be wearin' pants under his
dresses, and now what about boots? Let's see yours,
Patsey. They're all gone in the uppers, and Billy's are
too big, even if they were here, but they're off to school
on him. I'll tell you what Mary, hurry up wid that sock
o' Ted's and we'll draw them on him over Bugsey's boots
and purtind they're overstockin's, and I'll carry him
all the way so's not to dirty them."
Mary stopped her dish-washing, and drying her hands on
the thin towel that hung over the looking glass, found
her knitting and began to knit at the top of her speed.
"Isn't it good we have that dress o' his, so good yet,
that he got when we had all of yez christened. Put the
irons on there Mary; never mind, don't stop your knittin'.
I'll do it myself. We'll press it out a bit, and we can
put ma's handkerchief, the one pa gev her for Christmas,
around his neck, sort o' sailor collar style, to show
he's a boy. And now the snow is melted, I'll go at him.
Don't cry now Danny, man, yer going' up to the big house
where the lovely pink lady lives that has the chocaklut
drops on her stand and chunks of cake on the table wid
nuts in them as big as marbles. There now," continued
Pearlie, putting the towel over her finger and penetrating
Danny's ear, "she'll not say she can plant seeds in you.
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