Now then, you tell me which of them belongs to which, if you can.

They don't know, themselves--they just work whichever arm comes handy.

Of course they do; especially if they are in a hurry and can't stop to think which belongs to which." The mother seemed to have the rights of the argument, so the daughter abandoned the struggle.

Presently the widow rose with a yawn and said: "Poor thing, I hope it won't catch cold; it was powerful wet, just drenched, you may say.

I hope it has left its boots outside, so they can be dried." Then she gave a little start, and looked perplexed.
"Now I remember I heard one of them ask Joe to call him at half after seven--I think it was the one on the left--no, it was the one to the east of the other one--but I didn't hear the other one say any thing.
I wonder if he wants to be called too.