"You've forgot! You always
forget mine. It's mean! Please tell him, mother!" He clenched his fists in
vexation and looked up at her impetuously.
She wound her forefinger in his yellow fleece and pulled it, watching him.
"Well, how old are you?"
"I'm twelve," he panted, looking not at me but at her; "I'm twelve years
old, and I was born on Easter day!"
She nodded to me. "It's true. He was an Easter baby."
The children all looked at me, as if they expected me to exhibit
astonishment or delight at this information. Clearly, they were proud of
each other, and of being so many. When they had all been introduced, Anna,
the eldest daughter, who had met me at the door, scattered them gently,
and came bringing a white apron which she tied round her mother's waist.
"Now, mother, sit down and talk to Mr. Burden. We'll finish the dishes
quietly and not disturb you."
Antonia looked about, quite distracted. "Yes, child, but why don't we take
him into the parlor, now that we've got a nice parlor for company?"
The daughter laughed indulgently, and took my hat from me. "Well, you're
here, now, mother, and if you talk here, Yulka and I can listen, too. You
can show him the parlor after while." She smiled at me, and went back to
the dishes, with her sister. The little girl with the rag doll found a
place on the bottom step of an enclosed back stairway, and sat with her
toes curled up, looking out at us expectantly.
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