STUBBINS AND CHINKY LEARN THEIR NAMES
Little by little Mrs. Mulvaney remembered her old country home. Little
by little the springtime breezes, sweet and fresh, smoothed the
wrinkles from her brow, and softened her voice.
"Thay, ma," declared Stubbins one Sunday morning, when the birds were
singing from every swaying branch, and the green world seemed bursting
with joy, "Thay, do you know I think you're motht ath pretty ath
Mitheth Brown, and Mr. Hodgkinth he thay—"
Here Hannah put in a few words. "Ma, I do wish you had a best dress. We
live in such a nice house and everything, I wish—"
"Go on, Stubbins," interrupted Mrs. Mulvaney, "what did Mr. Hodgkins
say?"
"He thay he thinkth I've got a awful nithe ma."
"Pshaw, now, what makes him think so?"
"Well, he thay that ever thinthe he thed he'd give uth milk, if we'd
come after it, he can't help but notithe that uth kidth ith alwayth
clean when we come over there, and he thay it sthpeakth well for our
ma."
"There now, is that all he says?"
"Oh, no, he thay he likth to have uth live here. He thed he wath afraid
uth kidth would be a nuithanth and he ith 'greeably thurprithed. He
thayth we do what he tellth uth to and he thinkth we'll all be farmerth
we learn thingth tho quick. I think we're pretty nithe kidth mythelf."
"You are improving," admitted Mrs. Mulvaney. "What does Mr. Hodgkins
think of our garden?"
"Oh, he thayth he thinkth ith fine. He thayth the way our ma keepth
tho many kidth bithy ith wonderful. He thays too when he theeth the
clotheth on the line after you hang them up, they ith tho white, ith
like thnow, and he thay no wonder you get work to do. I thed uth kidth
help a lot."
"Stubbins," questioned Mrs. Mulvaney with a curious look in her eyes as
she gazed over the broad fields and orchards belonging to Mr. Welcome
Hodgkins, "What does he say when you young ones tell him that I'm—that
I'm apt to be cross, and that you get all the spankings you deserve,
hey?"
Stubbins laughed. "Thay, ma, do you th'pothe uth kidth ever tell about
our lickunth? Well, I geth not! You mutht think we're thilly! But thay,
ma, thereth one thing Mithter Hodgkinth thay he can't understand?"
"Well, what is it?"
"He thayth he thinkth ith queer a thivilithed woman like you couldn't
get nameth for all of uth kidth. He thayth Thubbinth ithn't a name and
he thay how did I come by it?"
Mrs. Mulvaney caught Stubbins by the shoulders and shook him. "You
simpleton!" said she, "why didn't you know enough to tell him your real
name slipped your memory, that your folks called you Stubbins when you
were little because you were always stubbing your unlucky toes."
"Why, ma!" protested Hannah, "He never was named; you know Stubbins is
the only name he's got."
Mrs. Mulvaney threw her slipper at Hannah. "You know a lot, don't you,
Miss? Now listen, all of you. Johnnie, Mike, come here. You seem to
have forgotten this boy's name."
"He ain't never had no name," declared Johnnie, dodging behind Chinky
to escape the spanking he seemed to expect when his mother looked at
him as she did at that moment.
"You donkeys!" exclaimed Mrs. Mulvaney. "Dust out your ears now and
you'll hear something. Stubbins's real name is Moses Aaron Mulvaney. Do
you hear, Stubbins? Your meetin'-house name is Moses. When you start
school, your name is Moses. When a man asks who you are, answer Moses.
Do you understand?"
"Oh, oh," wailed Stubbins, "Oh, thaketh alive, my name ith Motheth! Oh,
thay, ma, I don't want Motheth for my name. Motheth, Motheth, Motheth!"
"Oh, ma," besought Hannah, "think up another. Don't let's have that for
his name. Let's call him Willie or—"
"Hannah," insisted Mrs. Mulvaney, "that boy's name is Moses Aaron
Mulvaney. You can't change names. Maybe now you'd like to be called
Aribella or Fiddle-de-dee, but you're Hannah and he's Moses!"
"Oh. Motheth, Motheth, Motheth!" grumbled Stubbins. "Oh, thaketh alive,
Motheth!"
"What's Chink's name, ma?" demanded Mike, with a gleeful grin which
lasted but a minute, owing to a pinch from Chinky which changed the
expression of his face. "Ouw—" he began.
"Shut up!" warned Chinky, "don't you know enough to keep your mouth
shut?"
"Yeth," said Stubbins, "if I've got to be Motheth, who ith he?"
"Don't you remember?" asked Mrs. Mulvaney, "why, Chinky's name is Ezra
Jonathan."
"Ezra Jonathan!" groaned Chinky, his red hair and freckles looking
startled. "Oh, ma!"
"The idea of trying to be folks and not knowing your own names. I guess
you'll remember 'em now, Moses Aaron and Ezra Jonathan. Not's I care
what Mr. Hodgkins thinks, 'cause it's none of his business what your
names are. But just the same you want to do everything you can to keep
on the right side of him on account of our living in his house. You
make yourselves useful to him and don't never be sassy or he might turn
us out. Mind that. You show him what a comfort children can be, don't
never do what he don't want you to, and always do what he tells you to."
Five children cheerfully promised to do as their mother advised, but
poor Chinky and Stubbins simply grunted an assent, followed a minute
later by two exclamations.
"Ezra Jonathan!"
"Oh, Motheth!"