Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch
On this particular Sunday morning Mrs. Wiggs bustled about the kitchen in unusual haste.
"I am goin' to make you all some nice Irish pertater soup fer dinner," she said, as she came in from the parlor, where she kept her potatoes and onions. "The boys 'll be in soon, an' we 'll have to hurry and git through 'fore the childern begin to come to Sunday-school."
For many years Sunday afternoon had been a trying time in the neighborhood, so Mrs. Wiggs had organized a Sunday-school class at which she presided.
"If there don't come Chris an' Pete a'ready!" said Asia, from her post by the stove; "I bet they 've had their dinner, an' jes' come early to git some of ours!"
"Why, Asia!" exclaimed Mrs. Wiggs,
8
