Never had the house been in such immaculate
order, nor the young Queeringtons appeared in such presentable
garments, and never had the front door been slammed so persistently in
the face of unwelcome guests.
For the Queerington family tree was afflicted with too many branches.
There were little dry twigs of maidenly cousins, knotted and dwarfed
stumps of half-gone uncles and aunts, vigorous, demanding shoots of
nephews and niece's, all of whom had hitherto imposed upon the
Doctor's slender income, and his too generous hospitality.
Myrtella objected to the inroads these invaders made on his time and
strength, and she also objected to the extra work their presence
entailed upon her. In short, she felt that the family tree needed
pruning, and she set herself right heartily to the job. By persistent
discourtesy she managed to lop off one relative after another, until
she gained for the Doctor a privacy hitherto undreamed of.
"There ain't a hour in the day that I ain't headin' off somebody!" she
triumphantly announced one day to the cook from next door. "When I
come here you'd 'a' thought it was a railroad station, people comin'
and goin' with satchels; and bells a-ringin', and trunks being dragged
over the carpets.
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