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Updated: May 10, 2025
Myrtella on returning from her afternoon out, had heard a wild commotion in the nursery and hastened up to investigate. Bertie's introduction was breathless: "It's the new mother, 'Tella, and Chick's here, and we are playing bear, and we've broken the bed-springs, and she knows heaps and heaps of stories, and she knows Chick!"
Whether she sharply defined it, or attempted artistic effects in chiaroscuro the result was equally unsatisfactory. Myrtella was nothing if not thorough; before she finished with Chick, he was standing with his feet in a bucket, as clean and wet and naked as a fish. All this consumed time, and both boys were growing impatient, when a peculiar noise from outside attracted their attention.
"That's right, be insultin'!" Myrtella flared up haughtily; "throw it in my face that I'm hard to please, and ain't willin' to put up with any old place I come to." "Now I wouldn't put it that I was throwing it in yer face exactly," began Phineas, anxious to propitiate. "Which means I'm a story-teller?" Myrtella squared herself for action. "Oh, come on along," coaxed Phineas; "no harm's meant.
Meanwhile, a bedraggled little rose languished unnoticed beneath the manuscript of "The History of Norman Influence on English Language and Literature." For three hundred and sixty-five days Myrtella Flathers held undisputed sway in the house of Queerington.
Realism, romance, intrigue, adventure, she found them all, in these grim recitals of daily crime. Myrtella and Phineas Flathers had been cast into the sea of life at an early age to sink or swim as they saw fit. Myrtella had survived by combating the waves, while Phineas adopted the less arduous expedient of floating.
Myrtella says there ain't no fools like old ones." "That's all right," said Phineas; "she'll have more to say when I give Loreny a diamond ring on her next birthday. Iseling'll be givin' me a raise soon. He's as good as said so. He knows I'm good fer everything from bossin' a big job to drivin' a wagon; then look at the trade I command!
"It ain't goin' to rain before noon," Myrtella said authoritatively, in a tone that indicated her intention of stopping it immediately if it showed any intention of doing so. "It'll do you good to git out and walk a spell." Miss Lady shook her head. "Well, then you better let me send Bertie down here, he's makin' a awful racket in the nursery an' his pa'll be after him soon."
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.
He was indulging in the unusual luxury of loitering at the table after the meal was finished, a habit seldom tolerated in the Queerington household. "But there isn't time," insisted Hattie. "Connie is having a party to- night." "A party?" The Doctor's brows lifted. "Yes," broke in Connie. "Miss Lady said she didn't think you'd mind, and she persuaded Myrtella to let us dance in here.
To be sure there were dark and not-to-be-remembered instances where she had failed to give satisfaction herself, but usually it was the place, "the new place," with its varying code of musts and must-nots, that caused Myrtella to spend many of her days in the Intelligence Office, or on street-cars, or tramping through the streets in quest of that ever elusive "good home."
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