subject ended; but I wondered, during a few uneasy moments, whether
the temporary mental aberration which had once afflicted Helen’s
grandfather and mine was not reappearing in this, his youngest
descendant. My wondering was cut short by Budge, who remarked, in a
confidential tone:—
“Now, Uncle Harry, we’ll have the whistles, I guess.”
[Illustration: TODDIE INVESTIGATING A HORNET’S NEST]
I acted upon the suggestion, and led the way to the woods. I had not
had occasion to seek a hickory sapling before for years; not since
the war, in fact, when I learned how hot a fire small hickory sticks
would make. I had not sought wood for whistles since—— Gracious,
nearly a quarter of a century ago! The dissimilar associations called
up by these recollections threatened to put me in a frame of mind
which might have resulted in a bad poem, had not my nephews kept up
a lively succession of questions, such as no one but children can
ask. The whistles completed, I was marched, with music, to the place
where the “jacks” grew. It was just such a place as boys instinctively
delight in—low, damp, and boggy, with a brook hiding treacherously
away, under overhanging ferns and grasses. The children knew by sight
the plant which bore the “jacks,” and every discovery was announced
by a piercing shriek of delight. At first, I looked hurriedly toward
the brook as each yell clove the air; but, as I became accustomed
to it, my attention was diverted by some exquisite ferns. Suddenly,
however, a succession of shrieks announced that something was wrong,
and across a large fern I saw a small face in a great deal of agony.
Budge was hurrying to the relief of his brother, and was soon as deeply
imbedded as Toddie was, in the rich black mud at the bottom of the
brook. I dashed to the rescue, stood astride the brook, and offered a
hand to each boy, when a treacherous tuft of grass gave way, and, with
a glorious splash, I went in myself. This accident turned Toddie’s
sorrow to laughter, but I can’t say I made light of my misfortune on
that account. To fall into _clean_ water is not pleasant, even when
one is trout-fishing; but to be clad in white pants, and suddenly
drop knee-deep in the lap of mother Earth is quite a different thing.
I hastily picked up the children, and threw them upon the bank, and
then wrathfully strode out myself, and tried to shake myself as I have
seen a Newfoundland dog do. The shake was not a success—it caused my
trouser-leg to flap dismally about my ankles, and sent the streams of
loathsome ooze trickling down into my shoes. My hat, of drab felt, had
fallen off by the brookside, and been plentifully spattered as I got
out. I looked at my youngest nephew with speechless indignation.
“Uncle Harry,” said Budge, ”’twas real good of the Lord to let you be
with us, else Toddie might have been drownded.”
“Yes,” said I, “and I shouldn’t have much——”
“Ocken Hawwy,” cried Toddie, running impetuously toward me, pulling me
down, and patting my cheek with his muddy, black hand, “I _loves_ you
for taking me out de water.”
“I accept your apology,” said I, “but let’s hurry home.” There was
but one residence to pass, and that, thank fortune, was so densely
screened by shrubbery that the inmates could not see the road. To be
sure, we were on a favorite driving-road, but we could reach home in
five minutes, and we might dodge into the woods if we heard a carriage
coming. Ha! There came a carriage already, and we—was there ever a
sorrier-looking group? There were ladies in the carriage, too—could it
be—of course it was—did the evil spirit, which guided those children
always, send an attendant for Miss Mayton before he began operations?
There she was, anyway—cool, neat, dainty, trying to look collected, but
severely flushed by the attempt. It was of no use to drop my eyes, for
she had already recognized me; so I turned to her a face which I think
must have been just the one—unless more defiant—that I carried into two
or three cavalry charges.
“You seem to have been having a real good time together,” said she,
with a conventional smile, as the carriage passed. “Remember, you’re
all going to call on me to-morrow afternoon.”
[Illustration: “BUT LET’S HURRY HOME”]
Bless the girl! Her heart was as quick as her eyes—almost any other
young lady would have devoted her entire energy to laughing on such
an occasion, but _she_ took her earliest opportunity to make me feel
at ease. Such a royal-hearted woman deserves to—I caught myself just
here, with my cheeks growing quite hot under the mud Toddie had put
on them, and I led our retreat with a more stylish carriage than my
appearance could possibly have warranted, and then I consigned my
nephews to the maid with very much the air of an officer turning over a
large number of prisoners he had captured. I hastily changed my soiled
clothing for my best—not that I expected to see anyone, but because of
a sudden increase in the degree of respect I felt toward myself. When
the children were put to bed, and I had no one but my thoughts for
companions, I spent a delightful hour or two in imagining as possible
some changes of which I had never dared to think before.
On Monday morning I was in the garden at sunrise. Toddie was to carry
his expiatory bouquet to Miss Mayton that day, and I proposed that no
pains should be spared to make his atonement as handsome as possible.
I canvassed carefully every border, bed, and detached flowering plant
until I had as accurate an idea of their possibilities as if I had
inventoried the flowers in pen and ink. This done, I consulted the
servant as to the unsoiled clothing of my nephews? She laid out the
entire wardrobe for my inspection, and after a rigid examination of
everything, I selected the suits which the boys were to wear in the
afternoon. Then I told the girl that the boys were going with me after
dinner to call on some ladies and that I desired that she should wash
and dress them carefully.
“Tell me just what time you’ll start, sir, and I’ll begin an hour
beforehand,” said she. “That’s the only way to be sure that they don’t
disgrace you.”
For breakfast, we had, among other things, some stewed oysters served
in soup-plates.
“O Tod,” shrieked Budge, “there’s the turtle-plates again—oh, _ain’t_ I
glad!”
“Oo—ee—turtle pyates!” squealed Toddie.
“What on earth do you mean, boys?” I demanded.
“_I’ll_ show you,” said Budge, jumping down from his chair, and
bringing his plate of oysters cautiously toward me. “Now you just put
your head down underneath my plate, and look up, and you’ll see a
turtle.”
For a moment I forgot that I was not at a restaurant, and I took the
plate, held it up, and examined its bottom.
“There!” said Budge, pointing to the trade-mark, in colors, of the
makers of the crockery, “don’t you see the turtle?”
I abruptly ordered Budge to his seat, unmoved even by Toddie’s remark,
that—
“Dey ish turtles, but dey can’t kwawl awound like udder turtles.”
After breakfast I devoted a great deal of fussy attention to myself.
Never did my own wardrobe seem so meager and ill-assorted; never
did I cut myself so many times while shaving; never did I use such
unsatisfactory shoe-polish. I finally gave up in despair my effort to
appear genteel, and devoted myself to the bouquet. I cut almost flowers
enough to dress a church, and then remorselessly excluded every one
which was in the least particular imperfect. In making the bouquet I
enjoyed the benefit of my nephews’ assistance and counsel, and took
enforced part in conversation which flowers suggested.
“Ocken Hawwy,” said Toddie, “ish heaven all like this, wif pretty
f’owers? ’Cos I don’t see what ze angels ever turns out for if ’tis.”
“Uncle Harry,” said Budge, “when the leaves all go up and down and
wriggle around so, are they talking to the wind?”
“I—I guess so, old fellow.”
“Who are you making that bouquet for, Uncle Harry?” asked Budge.
“For a lady—for Miss Mayton—that lady that saw us all muddy yesterday
afternoon,” said I.
“Oh, I like her,” said Budge. “She looks so nice and pretty—just like a
cake—just as if she was good to eat—oh, I just love her, don’t _you_?”
“Well, I respect her very highly, Budge.”
”’Spect? What does ’spect mean?”
“Why it means that I think she’s a lady—a real pleasant lady—just the
nicest sort of lady in the world—the sort of person I’d like to see
every day, and like to see her better than anyone else.”
“Oh, why, ’spect an’ love means just the same thing, don’t they, Uncle
Har——”
“Budge,” I exclaimed, somewhat hastily, “run, ask Maggie for a piece of
string—quick!”
“All right,” said Budge, moving off, “but they _do_, don’t they?”
At two o’clock I instructed Maggie to dress my nephews, and at three
we started to make our call. To carry Toddie’s bouquet, and hold a
hand of each boy so as to keep them from darting into the hedges for
grasshoppers and the gutters for butterflies, was no easy work, but
I managed to do it. As we approached Mrs. Clarkson’s boarding-house
I felt my hat was over one ear, and my cravat awry, but there was no
opportunity to rearrange them, for I saw Alice Mayton on the piazza,
and felt that she saw me. Handing the bouquet to Toddie, and promising
him three sticks of candy if he would be careful and not drop it, we
entered the garden. The moment we were inside the hedge and Toddie
saw a man going over the lawn with a lawn-mower, he shrieked: “Oh,
deresh a cutter-grass!” and dropped the bouquet with the carelessness
born of perfect ecstasy. I snatched it before it reached the ground,
dragged the offending youth up the walk, saluted Miss Mayton, and told
Toddie to give the bouquet to the lady. This he succeeded in doing,
but as Miss Mayton thanked him and stooped to kiss him he wriggled
off the piazza like a little eel, shouted, “Turn on!” to his brother,
and a moment later my nephews were following the “cutter-grass” at a
respectful distance in the rear.
“Those are my sister’s ‘best children in the world,’ Miss Mayton,” said
I.
“Bless the little darlings!” replied the lady; “I _do_ love to see
children enjoying themselves.”
“So do I,” said I, “when I’m not responsible for their well-being; but
if the effort I’ve expended on those boys had been directed toward the
interests of my employers, those worthy gentlemen would consider me
invaluable.”
Miss Mayton made some witty reply, and we settled to a pleasant chat
about mutual acquaintances, about books, pictures, music and gossip of
our set. I would cheerfully have discussed Herbert Spencer’s system,
the Assyrian Tablets, or any other dry subject with Miss Mayton, and
felt that I was richly repaid by the pleasure of seeing her. Handsome,
intelligent, composed, tastefully dressed, without a suspicion of
the flirt or the languid woman of fashion about her, she awakened to
the uttermost every admiring sentiment and every manly feeling. But,
alas! my enjoyment was probably more than I deserved, so it was cut
short. There were other ladies boarding at Mrs. Clarkson’s, and, as
Miss Mayton truthfully observed at our first meeting, men were very
scarce at Hillcrest. So the ladies, by the merest accident, of course,
happened upon the piazza and each one was presented to me, and common
civility made it impossible for me to speak to Miss Mayton more than
once in ten minutes. At any other time and place I should have found
the meeting of so many ladies a delightful experience, but now——
Suddenly, a compound shriek arose from the lawn, and all the ladies
sprang to their feet. I followed their example, setting my teeth firmly
and viciously, hoping that whichever nephew had been hurt was _badly_
hurt. We saw Toddie running toward us with one hand in his mouth, while
Budge ran beside him, exclaiming:—
“_Poor_ little Toddie! Don’t cry! _Does_ it hurt you awful? Never
mind—Uncle Harry’ll comfort you. Don’t cry, Toddie, _de_-ar!”
Both boys reached the piazza steps, and clambered up, Budge exclaiming:—
“O Uncle Harry, Toddie put his fingers in the little wheels of the
cutter-grass, an’ it turned just the least little biddie, an’ it hurted
him.”
But Toddie ran up to me, clasped my legs and sobbed: “Sing ‘Toddie one
boy day.’”
My blood seemed to freeze. I could have choked that dreadful child,
suffering though he was. I stooped over him, caressed him, promised
him candy, took out my watch and gave it to him to play with, but
he returned to his original demand. A lady—the homeliest in the
party—suggested that she should bind up his hand, and I inwardly
blessed her, but he reiterated his request for “Toddie one boy day,”
and sobbed pitifully.
“What _does_ he mean?” asked Miss Mayton.
“He wants Uncle Harry to sing, ‘Charley boy one day,’” explained Budge;
“he always wants that song when he’s hurt anyway.”
“Oh, do sing it to him, Mr. Burton,” pleaded Miss Mayton; and all the
other ladies exclaimed, “Oh, do!”
I wrathfully picked him up in my arms and hummed the air of the
detested song.
“Sit in a wockin’-chair,” sobbed Toddie.
I obeyed; and then my tormentor remarked:—
“You don’t sing the wydes [words]—I wants the wydes.”
I sang the words as softly as possible, with my lips close to his ear,
but he roared:—
“Sing louder!”
“I don’t know any more of it, Toddle,” I exclaimed in desperation.
“Oh, I’ll tell it all to you, Uncle Harry,” said Budge. And there,
before that audience, and _her_, I was obliged to sing that dreadful
doggerel, line for line, as Budge repeated it. My teeth were set tight,
my brow grew clammy, and I gazed upon Toddie with terrible thoughts in
my mind. No one laughed—I grew so desperate that a titter would have
given relief. At last I heard someone whisper:—
“_See_ how he loves him! Poor man!—he’s in perfect agony over the
little fellow.”
Had not the song reached its natural end just then, I believe I should
have tossed my wounded nephew over the piazza rail. As it was, I set
him upon his feet, announced the necessity of our departure, and began
to take leave, when Miss Mayton’s mother insisted that we should stay
to dinner.
“For myself, I should be delighted, Mrs. Mayton,” said I; “but my
nephews have hardly learned company manners yet. I’m afraid my sister
wouldn’t forgive me if she heard I had taken them out to dinner.”
“Oh, I’ll take care of the little dears,” said Miss Mayton; “they’ll be
good with _me_, I _know_.”
“I couldn’t be so unkind as to let you try it, Miss Mayton,” I replied.
But she insisted, and the pleasure of submitting to her will was so
great that I would have risked even greater mischief. So Miss Mayton
sat down to dinner with Budge upon one side and Toddie on the other,
while I was fortunately placed opposite, from which position I could
indulge in warning winks and frowns. The soup was served. I signaled
the boys to tuck their napkins under their chins, and then turned to
speak to the lady on my right. She politely inclined her head toward
me, but her thoughts seemed elsewhere; following her eyes, I beheld my
youngest nephew with his plate upraised in both hands, his head on the
tablecloth, and his eyes turned painfully upward. I dared not speak,
for fear he would drop the plate. Suddenly he withdrew his head, put
on an angelic smile, tilted his plate so part of its contents sought
refuge in the folds of Miss Mayton’s dainty, snowy dress, while the
offender screamed:—
“Oo-ee! zha turtle on my pyate!—Budgie, zha turtle on my pyate!”
[Illustration: “OO-EE! ZHA TURTLE ON MY PYATE”]
Budge was about to raise his plate when he caught my eye and desisted.
Poor Miss Mayton actually looked discomposed for the first time in
her life, so far as I knew or could imagine. She recovered quickly,
however, and treated that wretched boy with the most Christian
forbearance and consideration during the remainder of the meal. When
the dessert was finished she quickly excused herself, while I removed
Toddie to a secluded corner of the piazza, and favored him with a
lecture which caused him to howl pitifully, and compelled me to caress
him and undo all the good which my rebukes had done. Then he and
Budge removed themselves to the lawn, while I awaited Miss Mayton’s
reappearance to offer an apology for Toddie, and make our adieus.
It was the custom of the ladies at Mrs. Clarkson’s to stroll about
the lovely rural walks after dinner and until twilight; and on this
particular evening they departed in twos and threes, leaving me to make
my apology without witnesses. I was rather sorry they went; it was not
pleasant to feel that I was principally responsible for my nephew’s
blunder, and to have no opportunity to allay my conscience-pangs by
conversation. It seemed to me Miss Mayton was forever in appearing; I
even called up my nephews to have some one to talk to.
Suddenly she appeared, and in an instant I fervently blessed Toddie and
the soup which the child had sent upon its aimless wanderings. I would
rather pay the price of a fine dress than try to describe Miss Mayton’s
attire; I can only say that in style, color and ornament it became her
perfectly, and set off the beauties of a face which I had never before
thought was more than pleasing and intelligent. Perhaps the anger,
which was excusable after Toddie’s graceless caper, had something to
do with putting unusual color into her cheeks, and a brighter sparkle
than usual in her eyes. Whatever was the cause, she looked queenly, and
I half imagined that I detected in her face a gleam of satisfaction
at the involuntary start which her unexpected appearance caused me to
make. She accepted my apology for Toddie with queenly graciousness, and
then, instead of proposing that we should follow the other ladies,
as a moment before I had hoped she would, she dropped into a chair.
I accepted the invitation; the children should have been in bed half
an hour before, but my sense of responsibility had departed when
Miss Mayton appeared. The little scamps were safe until they should
perform some new and unexpected act of impishness. They retired to
one end of the piazza, and busied themselves in experiments upon a
large Newfoundland dog, while I, the happiest man alive, talked to the
glorious woman before me, and enjoyed the spectacle of her radiant
beauty. The twilight came and deepened, but imagination prevented the
vision from fading. With the coming of the darkness and the starlight,
our voices unconsciously dropped to lower tones, and _her_ voice seemed
purest music. And yet we said nothing which all the world might not
have listened to without suspecting a secret. The ladies returned in
little groups, but either out of womanly intuition or in answer to my
unspoken but fervent prayers, passed us and went into the house. I
was affected by an odd mixture of desperate courage and despicable
cowardice. I determined to tell her all, yet I shrank from the task
with more terror than ever befell me in the first steps of a charge.
Suddenly a small shadow came from behind us and stood between us, and
the voice of Budge remarked:—
“Uncle Harry ’spects you, Miss Mayton.”
“Suspects me?—of what, pray?” exclaimed the lady, patting my nephew’s
cheek.
“Budge!” said I—I feel that my voice rose nearly to a scream—“Budge, I
must beg of you to respect the sanctity of confidential communications.”
“What is it, Budge?” persisted Miss Mayton. “You know the old adage,
Mr. Burton: ‘Children and fools speak the truth.’ Of what does he
suspect me, Budge?”
”’Taint _sus_-pect at all,” said Budge, “it’s es-spect.”
“Expect?” echoed Miss Mayton.
“No, not ‘ex,’ it’s _es_-spect. I know all about it, ’cause I asked
him. Es-spect is what folks do when they think you’re nice, and like
to talk to you, and——”
“Respect is what the boy is trying to say, Miss Mayton,” I interrupted,
to prevent what I feared might follow. “Budge has a terrifying faculty
for asking questions, and the result of some of them, this morning,
was my endeavor to explain to him the nature of the respect in which
gentlemen hold ladies.”
“Yes,” continued Budge, “I know all about it. Only Uncle Harry don’t
say it right. What he calls espect _I_ calls _love_.”
There was an awkward pause—it seemed an age. Another blunder, and all
on account of those dreadful children. I could think of no possible way
to turn the conversation; stranger yet, Miss Mayton could not do so,
either. Something _must_ be done—I could at least be honest, come what
would—I would be honest.
“Miss Mayton,” said I, hastily, earnestly, but in a very low tone.
“Budge is a marplot, but he is a truthful interpreter for all that. But
whatever my fate may be, please do not suspect me of falling suddenly
in love for a holiday’s diversion. My malady is of some months’
standing. I——”
“_I_ want to talk _some_” observed Budge. “You talk all the whole time.
I—I—when I loves anybody, I kisses them.”
Miss Mayton gave a little start, and my thoughts followed each other
with unimagined rapidity. _She_ did not turn the conversation—it could
not be possible that she _could_ not. She was not angry, or she would
have expressed herself. Could it be that——
I bent over her, and acted upon Budge’s suggestion. As she displayed no
resentment, I pressed my lips a second time to her forehead, then she
raised her head slightly, and I saw, in spite of darkness and shadows,
that Alice Mayton had surrendered at discretion. Taking her hand and
straightening myself to my full height, I offered to the Lord more
fervent thanks than He ever heard from me in church. Then I heard Budge
say, “_I_ wants to kiss you, too,” and I saw my glorious Alice snatch
the little scamp into her arms, and treat him with more affection than
I ever imagined was in her nature. Then she seized Toddie, and gave him
a few tokens of forgiveness—I dare not think they were of gratitude.
Suddenly two or three ladies came upon the piazza.
“Come, boys,” said I; “then I’ll call with the carriage to-morrow at
three, Miss Mayton. Good evening.”
“Good evening,” replied the sweetest voice in the world; “I’ll be ready
at three.”
“Budge,” said I, as soon as we were fairly outside the hedge-gate,
“what do you like better than anything else in the world?”
“Candy,” said Budge, very promptly.
“What next?”
“Oranges.”
“What next?”
“Oh, figs, an’ raisins, an’ dear little kittie-kitties, an’ drums,
an’ picture-books, an’ little bakin’ dishes to make mud-pies in, an’
turtles, an’ little wheelbarrows.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh, yes—great big black dogs—an’ a goat, an’ a wagon for him to draw
me in.”
Very well, old fellow—you shall have every one of those things
to-morrow.”
“Oh—h—h—h—h!” exclaimed Budge,” I guess you’re something like the Lord,
ain’t you?”
[Illustration: ACTING UPON BUDGES’ SUGGESTION]
“What makes you think so, Budge?”
“Oh, ’cause you can do such lots of things at once. But ain’t poor
little Tod goin’ to have noffin’?”
“Yes, everything he wants. What would you like, Toddie?”
“Wants a candy cigar,” replied Toddie.
“What else?”
“Don’t want _nuffin’_ else—don’t want to be boddered wif _lots_ of
fings.”
The thoughts which were mine that night—the sense of how glorious a
thing it is to be a man and be loved—the humility that comes with such
a victory as I had gained—the rapid alternation of happy thoughts and
noble resolutions—what man is there who does not know my whole story
better than I can tell it? I put my nephews to bed; I told them every
story they asked for; and when Budge, in saying his prayers, said,
“an’ bless that nice lady that Uncle Harry ’spects,” I interrupted his
devotions with a hearty hug. The children had been awake so far beyond
their usual hour for retiring that they dropped asleep without giving
any special notice of their intention to do so. Asleep, their faces
were simply angelic. As I stood, candle in hand, gazing gratefully upon
them, I remembered a sadly neglected duty. I hurried to the library and
wrote the following to my sister:—
“HILLCREST. MONDAY NIGHT.