Dirt from the top of the house to the bottom; Miss
Hattie with her petticoats hanging down below her dress; and all the
neighbor children racing in and out, and actually takin' the mattress
off Bertie's bed to coast down the stairs on!"
"In the name of St. Patrick!" sympathized Norah, the visitor; "and
their pa not doin' nothin' with 'em at all?"
"Who said he wasn't?" blazed Myrtella instantly. "You'll be hintin'
around next that I was talkin' about the Doctor behind his back.
You're fixin' to lose me my place, that's what you are doin'."
"Not me! It's braggin' on you I was not over a week ago, sayin' what a
fine, nice cook you was, and how grand and clean it was over here."
"Of course," said Myrtella haughtily, "I may not be workin' fer a lady
that's so smart she wouldn't even know her own kitchen if she met it
walkin' up the street. I may not work in a house where they pull down
the shades and burn red lamps in the day time to keep from showin' the
dirt under the sofa. We don't keep two servants and not have enough to
feed 'em, but _I'm_ satisfied. At least fer the present. The day will
come when I won't have to be in service to no one.
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