"Oh, yes you will, Fridoline. Every one goes to Sunday School.... Here's the blacking all ready for you.... No, you can't wash first. What's the use of getting clean and then gauming yourself all up agin?... Black the _heels_ of the shoes. Yes, they do show, too.... No, Friddie dear, please don't put on that clean collar until you wash your neck. Let me help you wash.... Well, I won't, if you don't want me to, but you are never pertic'ler about the edges, you know you ain't.... Stop brushing Mike's hair with that blacking brush!... Friddie, I'll tell Ma!... No, your neck ain't clean, an' your ears are a sight. Let me take that rag a minute. No, I won't get your coat collar wet.... Don't work your face that way, Friddie; it can't be as stiff as that.... Well, don't _open_ your mouth, _then_ you won't taste it.... Stop hitting my elbow.... Fridoline Canary!... I hate to tell on you, but if you don't stop I will.... Ma, make Friddie stop!"
Mrs. Canary, putting her forefinger between the pages of the Duke's history, came to the doorway and looked in,--the picture of grieved amazement.
"Why, Fridoline," she exclaimed. "Why do you hurt that loving sister of yours? Elbows is tender in ladies. Holly Belle, I wouldn't be too pertic'ler about the edges. He was washed good last Wednesday."
"Sh'd say I was," growled Fridoline, looking vengefully at his sister. "They's no need of making me as wet as wash-day agin. Holly Belle's too doggoned clean."
"Ye look as shiny as a new mirror," said his mother proudly. "There's nothing like Ivory soap for bringing out all there is in a man. You look every inch a policeman's son. Now your uncle Weatherby, who holds a government position at Washington, D.C.----"
"Do I have to go to Sunday School, ma?" whined Fridoline.
"Don't interrupt, Friddie dear," said his mother mildly. "You put me all out of mind of what I was goin' to say. Certainly you do have to go to Sabbath School. I ain't goin' to have it said that I ever let circumstances interfere with religion."
"I hate Sunday School," complained Fridoline; "I don't get no good going."
"Oh, yes you do, son," encouraged his mother. "You learn lots. Didn't you get promoted from primary to secondary less'n a month ago?"