And to them all, Nan now came forward and made a profound bow.

“My subject is Temperance, ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “and I hope you’ll pay attention, because it’s a true subject, as well as a useful one.

“I wish men wouldn’t get drunk.  It’s dreadful smelly even going by a saloon, so I don’t see how they can.  I think it would be very nice if pleecemen would think once in a while about stopping such things as drunkers, but they probably like to have saloons around for themselves.  A nice thing would be, to have ladies, like your mother and me, for pleecemen.  Then we’d scrub things up, and pour things out, till you couldn’t smell or taste a thing.  But men are meaner than women”—­Bobby looked dubious—­“some men aren’t though”—­he looked relieved.  “The reason we are so nice and ’spectable, is because my father is a minister, and doesn’t dare do disgraceful things, and your mother doesn’t get time.  So we should be thankful, instead of wishing we had a candy store in the family, and being sorry we have to set examples for other kids.  No!  No!  No! children, I mean.  That’s all, and I hope you won’t forget all I’ve told you.”

“Let’s play church now,” said Ethelwyn promptly, “and I choose to be preacher, because I know about Moses and Abiram.  The choir will please sing Billy Boy.”

So they put on nightgowns for surplices.

“What can I do?” said Beth, who was tired of always being an audience.

“Take up the collection,” said Ethelwyn, “we need some more pennies.”

“’The sermon, beloved,” said Ethelwyn after the singing, and a little preliminary ritual, “is about Moses and Abiram, who both wanted to be boss of the temple.

“‘I will be boss,’ said Moses.

“‘Not much,’ said Abiram, standing on his tippest toes.

“Then they fit, and I’ve forgotten which one whipped, ’cause we haven’t got that far yet; anyway it’s lunch time, so do hurry and take up the collection.”

CHAPTER XII Sunday

    No matter how bad we are through the week,
    When Sunday comes ’round we grow very meek.

“I hope, Beth,” said Ethelwyn, who always woke up first, “you will remember to-day is Sunday, and not quarrel with your sister,” But Beth cuddled down in the pillows and refused to answer a word.  After a while, Ethelwyn, watching the sunbeams dancing on the pink wall, went to sleep herself, and opened her eyes only when her mother kissed her awake.

Sierra Nevada, being a devout Roman Catholic, always went to early mass on Sunday mornings, and their mother gave them their baths, to their great delight and comfort.  The bath was all ready for them now, crystal clear with the jolly sunbeams dancing on its silver disk.

“We’ll get a sunshine bath,” said Beth, trying to catch the golden drops.

“Inside and outside,” said mother smiling.

“You look so pretty, motherdy,” said Ethelwyn approvingly, “So much prettier than black, cross old ’Vada, who always rolls her eyes at me and says, ‘Miss Effel, you is de troublesomest chile dat ebba was bown.’  You have sense, and in that blue gown, white apron, and cap, you are pretty.  You get prettier all the time you are getting old, mother.  You’ll be a beautiful angel when you are very old.”