"No, no, no!" cried Mrs. Ruggles, in despair. "That's worse yet; yer look for all the world like a gang o' pris'ners! There ain't no style ter that: spread out more, can't yer, 'n' act kind o' careless-like--nobody's goin' ter kill ye! That ain't what a dinner-party is!" The third time brought deserved success, and the pupils took their seats in the row. "Now, yer know," said Mrs. Ruggles impressively, "there ain't enough decent hats to go round, 'n' if there was I don' know's I'd let yer wear 'em, for the boys would never think to take 'em off when they got inside, for they never do--but anyhow, there ain't enough good ones. Now, look me in the eye. You're only goin' jest round the corner; you needn't wear no hats, none of yer, 'n' when yer get int' the parlor, 'n' they ask yer ter lay off yer hats, Sarah Maud must speak up 'n' say it was sech a pleasant evenin' 'n' sech a short walk that yer left yer hats to home. Now, can yer remember?" All the little Ruggleses shouted, "Yes, marm!" in chorus. "What have _you_ got ter do with it?" demanded their mother; "did I tell _you_ to say it? Warn't I talkin' ter Sarah Maud?" The little Ruggleses hung their diminished heads. "Yes, marm," they piped, more discreetly. "Now we won't leave nothin' to chance; git up, all of ye, an' try it.--Speak up, Sarah Maud." Sarah Maud's tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. "Quick!" "Ma thought--it was--sech a pleasant hat that we'd--we'd better leave our short walk to home," recited Sarah Maud, in an agony of mental effort. This was too much for the boys. An earthquake of suppressed giggles swept all along the line. "Oh, whatever shall I do with yer?" moaned the unhappy mother; "I s'pose I've got to learn it to yer!"--which she did, word for word, until Sarah Maud thought she could stand on her head and say it backwards. "Now, Cornelius, what are _you_ goin' ter say ter make yerself good comp'ny?" "Do? Me? Dunno!" said Cornelius, turning pale, with unexpected responsibility.