. Peter, you go into the back bedroom, an' I'll
take Susan, Kitty, Peory an' Cornelius; an' Sarah Maud, you take Clem,
'n Eily, 'n Larry, one to a time, an' git as fur as you can with 'em,
an' then I'll finish 'em off while you do yerself."

Sarah Maud couldn't have scrubbed with any more decision and force if
she had been doing floors, and the little Ruggleses bore it bravely,
not from natural heroism, but for the joy that was set before them.
Not being satisfied, however, with the "tone" of their complexions, she
wound up operations by applying a little Bristol brick from the
knife-board, which served as the proverbial "last straw," from under
which the little Ruggleses issued rather red and raw and out of temper.
When the clock struck three they were all clothed, and most of them in
their right minds, ready for those last touches that always take the
most time. Kitty's red hair was curled in thirty-four ringlets, Sarah
Maud's was braided in one pig-tail, and Susan's and Eily's in two
braids apiece, while Peoria's resisted all advances in the shape of
hair oils and stuck out straight on all sides, like that of the
Circassian girl of the circus--so Clem said; and he was sent into the
bed-room for it too, from whence he was dragged out forgivingly by
Peoria herself, five minutes later. Then--exciting moment--came linen
collars for some and neckties and bows for others, and Eureka! the
Ruggleses were dressed, and Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed
like one of these! A row of seats was formed directly through the
middle of the kitchen. There were not quite chairs enough for ten,
since the family had rarely all wanted to sit down at once, somebody
always being out, or in bed, but the wood box and the coal-hod finished
out the line nicely. The children took their places according to age,
Sarah Maud at the head and Larry on the coal-hod, and Mrs. Ruggles
seated herself in front, surveying them proudly as she wiped the sweat
of honest toil from her brow.

"Well," she exclaimed, "if I do say so as shouldn't, I never see a
cleaner, more stylish mess o' childern in my life! I do wish Ruggles
could look at ye for a minute! Now, I've of 'en told ye what kind of a
family the McGrills was. I've got some reason to be proud; your uncle
is on the po-lice force o' New York city; you can take up the newspaper
most any day an' see his name printed right out--James McGrill, and I
can't have my childern fetched up common, lik