in a safe
corner by herself, gives her a spoon and says, "There now--you can be
cutting your teeth on that."

And when the children have quite worn Uncle Larry out, he sits upon the
floor, where they have him by this time, and runs his fingers through
his hair, which is standing straight up, and says to the Mother, "Sure,
Eileen, when you and I were children on the old sod, we were never such
spalpeens as the likes of these! They have me destroyed entirely, and
me the biggest policeman on the Force! Is it American they are, or
Irish, I want to know?"

"It's Irish-American we are," shouts little Larry.

"And with the heft of both countries in your fists," groans big Larry.

And then the Mother, who has been laying the table, meanwhile,
interferes. "Come off of your poor Uncle," she says, "and be eating
your soup, like gentlemen and ladies. It's getting cold on you waiting
for you to finish your antics. Your poor Uncle Larry won't come near
you at all, and you all the time punishing him like that."

And then the Baby, still sucking her spoon, is lifted into her high
chair. A chair is placed for Uncle Larry, and they all eat their soup
around the kitchen table, just as the very last rays of the summer sun
make long streaks of light across the kitchen floor.

"Where's Dennis?" says Uncle Larry, while the children are quiet for a
moment.

"Oh, it's Himself is so late that I feed the children and put them to
bed before he gets home at all," says the Mother. "It's little he sees
of them except of a Sunday."

"It's likely he'll live the longer for that," says Uncle Larry. He
looks reproachfully at the children and rubs his head.

And then--"Mother, tell us, what kind of a boy was Uncle Larry when you
and he were Twins and lived in Ireland," says little Eileen.

"The best in the width of the world," says her Mother promptly.
"Weren't you, Larry? Speak up and tell them now."

And Uncle Larry laughs and says, "Sure, I was too good entirely! It
wouldn't be modest to tell you the truth about myself."

"Tell us about Mother, then," says little Eileen. "Was she the best in
the width of the world, too?"

"Sure, I'll never be telling tales on my only twin sister," says Uncle
Larry, "beyond telling you that there was many another in green old
Ireland just like her, whatever kind she was. But I can't stay here
wearing out my tongue! Look out the window! The chickens have gone to
roost, and the sun is down.