The first cause, so far as it can be determined, of the existence of
this book may be found in the following letter, written by my only
married sister, and received by me, Harry Burton, salesman of white
goods, bachelor, aged twenty-eight, and received just as I was trying
to decide where I should Spend a fortnight's vacation:--
"HILLCREST, June 15, 1875.
"DEAR HARRY:--Remembering that you are always complaining that you
never have a chance to read, and knowing that you won't get it this
summer, if you spend your vacation among people of your own set, I
write to ask you to come up here. I admit that I am not wholly
disinterested in inviting you. The truth is, Tom and I are invited to
spend a fortnight with my old schoolmate, Alice Wayne, who, you know,
is the dearest girl in the world, though you DIDN'T obey me and marry
her before Frank Wayne appeared. Well, we're dying to go, for Alice and
Frank live in splendid style; but as they haven't included our children
in their invitation, and have no children of their own, we must leave
Budge and Toddie at home. I've no doubt they'll be perfectly safe, for
my girl is a jewel, and devoted to the children, but I would feel a
great deal easier if there was a man in the house. Besides, there's the
silver, and burglars are less likely to break into a house where
there's a savage-looking man. (Never mind about thanking me for the
compliment.) If YOU'LL only come up, my mind will be completely at
rest. The children won't give you the slightest trouble; they're the
best children in the world--everybody says so.
"Tom has plenty of cigars, I know, for the money I should have had for
a new suit went to pay his cigar-man. He has some new claret, too, that
HE goes into ecstasies over, though _I_ can't tell it from the vilest
black ink, except by the color. Our horses are in splendid condition,
and so is the garden--you see I don't forget your old passion for
flowers. And, last and best, there never were so many handsome girls at
Hillcrest as there are among the summer boarders already here; the
girls you already are acquainted with here will see that you meet all
the newer acquisitions.
"Reply by telegraph right away.
"Of course you'll say 'Yes.'
"In great haste, your loving
"SISTER HELEN.
P. S. You shall have our own chamber; it catches every breeze, and
commands the finest views. The children's room communicates with it;
so, if anything SHOULD happen to the darlings at night, you'd be sure
to hear them."
"Just the thing!" I ejaculated. Five minutes later I had telegraphed
Helen my acceptance of her invitation, and had mentally selected books
enough to busy me during a dozen vacations. Without sharing Helen's
belief that her boys were the best ones in the world, I knew them well
enough to feel assured that they would not give me any annoyance. There
were two of them, since Baby Phil died last fall; Budge, the elder, was
five years of age, and had generally, during my flying visits to Helen,
worn a shy, serious, meditative, noble face, with great, pure,
penetrating eyes, that made me almost fear their stare. Tom declared he
was a born philanthropist or prophet, and Helen made so free with Miss
Muloch's lines as to sing:--
"Ah, the day that THOU goest a-wooing,
Budgie, my boy!"
Toddie had seen but three summers, and was a happy little know-nothing,
with a head full of tangled yellow hair, and a very pretty fancy for
finding out sunbeams and dancing in them. I had long envied Tom his
horses, his garden, his house and his location, and the idea of
controlling them for a fortnight was particularly delightful. Tom's
taste in cigars and claret I had always respected, while the lady
inhabitants of Hillcrest were, according to my memory, much like those
of every other suburban village, the fairest of their sex.
Three days later I made the hour and a half trip between New York and
Hillcrest, and hired a hackman to drive me over to Tom's. Half a mile
from my brother-in-law's residence, our horses shied violently, and the
driver, after talking freely to them, turned to me and remarked:--
"That was one of the 'Imps.'"
"What was?" I asked.
"That little cuss that scared the hosses. There he is, now, holdin' up
that piece of brushwood. 'Twould be just like his cheek, now, to ask me
to let him ride. Here he comes, runnin'. Wonder where t'other is?--they
most generally travel together. We call 'em the Imps, about these
parts, because they're so uncommon likely at mischief. Always skeerin'
hosses, or chasin' cows, or frightenin' chickens. Nice enough father
an' mother, too--queer, how young ones do turn out."
As he spoke, the offending youth came panting beside our carriage, and
in a very dirty sailor-suit, and under a broad-brimmed straw hat, with
one stocking about his ankle, and two shoes, averaging about two
buttons each, I recognized my nephew, Budge! About the same time there
emerged from the bushes by the roadside a smaller boy in a green
gingham dress, a ruffle which might once have been white, dirty
stockings, blue slippers worn through at the toes, and an old-fashioned
straw-turban. Thrusting into the dust of the road a branch from a bush,
and shouting, "Here's my grass-cutter!" he ran toward us enveloped in a
"pillar of cloud," which might have served the purpose of Israel in
Egypt. When he paused and the dust had somewhat subsided, I beheld the
unmistakable lineaments of the child Toddie!
"They're--my nephews," I gasped.
"What!" exclaimed the driver. "By gracious! I forgot you were going to
Colonel Lawrence's! I didn't tell anything but the truth about 'em,
though; they're smart enough, an' good enough, as boys go; but they'll
never die of the complaint that children has in Sunday-school books."
"Budge," said I, with all the sternness I could command, "do you know
me?"
The searching eyes of the embryo prophet and philanthropist scanned me
for a moment, then their owner replied:--
"Yes; you're Uncle Harry. Did you bring us anything?"
"Bring us anything?" echoed Toddie.
"I wish I could have brought you some big whippings," said I, with
great severity of manner, "for behaving so badly. Get into this
carriage."
"Come on, Tod," shouted Budge, although Toddie's farther ear was not a
yard from Budge's mouth. "Uncle Harry's going to take us riding!"
"Going to take us riding!" echoed Toddie, with the air of one in a
reverie; both the echo and the reverie I soon learned were
characteristics of Toddie.
As they clambered into the carriage I noticed that each one carried a
very dirty towel, knotted in the center into what is known as a
slip-noose knot, drawn very tight. After some moments of disgusted
contemplation of these rags, without being in the least able to
comprehend their purpose, I asked Budge what those towels were for.
"They're not towels--they're dollies," promptly answered my nephew.
"Goodness!" I exclaimed. "I should think your mother could buy you
respectable dolls, and not let you appear in public with those
loathsome rags."
"We don't like buyed dollies," explained Budge. "These dollies is
lovely; mine's name is Mary, an' Toddie's is Marfa."
"Marfa?" I queried.
"Yes; don't you know about
"Marfa and Mary's jus' gone along
To ring dem charmin' bells,
that them Jubilee sings about?"
"Oh, Martha, you mean?"
"Yes, Marfa--that's what I say. Toddie's dolly's got brown eyes, an' my
dolly's got blue eyes."
"I want to shee yours watch," remarked Toddie, snatching at my chain,
and rolling into my lap.
"Oh--oo--ee, so do I," shouted Budge, hastening to occupy one knee, and
IN TRANSITU wiping his shoes on my trousers and the skirts of my coat.
Each imp put an arm about me to steady himself, as I produced my
three-hundred-dollar time-keeper and showed them the dial.
"I want to see the wheels go round," said Budge.
"Want to shee wheels go wound," echoed Toddie.
"No; I can't open my watch where there's so much dust," I said.
"What for?" inquired Budge.
"Want to shee the wheels go wound," repeated Toddie.
"The dust gets inside the watch and spoils it," I explained.
"Want to shee the wheels go wound," said Toddie, once more.
"I tell you I can't, Toddie," said I, with considerable asperity. "Dust
spoils watches."
The innocent gray eyes looked up wonderingly, the dirty, but pretty
lips parted slightly, and Toddie murmured:--
"Want to shee the wheels go wound."
I abruptly closed my watch and put it into my pocket. Instantly
Toddie's lower lip commenced to turn outward, and continued to do so
until I seriously feared the bony portion of his chin would be exposed
to view. Then his lower jaw dropped, and he cried:--
"Ah--h--h--h--h--h--want--to--shee--the wheels--go wou--OUND."
"Charles" (Charles is his baptismal name),--"Charles," I exclaimed with
some anger, "stop that noise this instant! Do you hear me?"
"Yes--oo--oo--oo--ahoo--ahoo."
"Then stop it."
"Wants to shee--"
"Toddie, I've got some candy in my trunk, but I won't give you a bit if
you don't stop that infernal noise."
"Well, I wants to shee wheels go wound. Ah--ah--h--h--h--h!"
"Toddie, dear, don't cry so. Here's some ladies coming in a carriage;
you wouldn't let THEM see you crying, would you? You shall see the
wheels go round as soon as we get home."
A carriage containing a couple of ladies was rapidly approaching, as
Toddie again raised his voice.
"Ah--h--h--wants to shee wheels--"
Madly I snatched my watch from my pocket, opened the case, and exposed
the works to view. The other carriage was meeting ours, and I dropped
my head to avoid meeting the glance of the unknown occupants, for my
few moments of contact with my dreadful nephews had made me feel
inexpressibly unneat. Suddenly the carriage with the ladies stopped. I
heard my own name spoken, and raising my head quickly (encountering
Budge's bullet head EN ROUTE to the serious disarrangement of my hat),
I looked into the other carriage. There, erect, fresh, neat, composed,
bright-eyed, fair-faced, smiling and observant,--she would have been
all this, even if the angel of the resurrection had just sounded his
dreadful trump,--sat Miss Alice Mayton, a lady who, for about a year, I
had been adoring from afar.
"When did YOU arrive, Mr. Burton?" she asked, "and how long have you
been officiating as child's companion? You're certainly a happy-looking
trio--so unconventional. I hate to see children all dressed up and
stiff as little manikins, when they go out to ride. And you look as if
you had been having SUCH a good time with them."
"I--I assure you, Miss Mayton," said I, "that my experience has been
the exact reverse of a pleasant one. If King Herod were yet alive I'd
volunteer as an executioner, and engage to deliver two interesting
corpses at a moment's notice."
"You dreadful wretch!" exclaimed the lady. "Mother, let me make you
acquainted with Mr. Burton,--Helen Lawrence's brother. How is your
sister, Mr. Burton?"
"I don't know," I replied; "she has gone with her husband on a
fortnight's visit to Captain and Mrs. Wayne, and I've been silly enough
to promise to have an eye to the place while they're away."
"Why, how delightful!" exclaimed Miss Mayton. "SUCH horses! SUCH
flowers! SUCH a cook!"
"And such children," said I, glaring suggestively at the imps, and
rescuing from Toddie a handkerchief which he had extracted from my
pocket, and was waving to the breeze.
"Why, they're the best children in the world. Helen told me so the
first time I met her this season! Children will be children, you know.
We had three little cousins with us last summer, and I'm sure they made
me look years older than I really am."
"How young you must be, then, Miss Mayton!" said I. I suppose I looked
at her as if I meant what I said, for, although she inclined her head
and said, "Oh, thank you," she didn't seem to turn my compliment off in
her usual invulnerable style. Nothing happening in the course of
conversation ever discomposed Alice Mayton for more than a hundred
seconds, however, so she soon recovered her usual expression and
self-command, as her next remark fully indicated.
"I believe you arranged the floral decorations at the St. Zephaniah's
Fair, last winter, Mr. Burton? 'Twas the most tasteful display of the
season. I don't wish to give any hints, but at Mrs. Clarkson's, where
we're boarding, there's not a flower in the whole garden. I break the
Tenth Commandment dreadfully every time I pass Colonel Lawrence's
garden. Good-by, Mr. Burton."
"Ah, thank you; I shall be delighted. Good-by."
"Of course you'll call," said Miss Mayton, as her carriage
started,--"it's dreadfully stupid here--no men except on Sundays."
I bowed assent. In the contemplation of all the shy possibilities which
my short chat with Miss Mayton had suggested, I had quite forgotten my
dusty clothing and the two living causes thereof. While in Miss
Mayton's presence the imps had preserved perfect silence, but now their
tongues were loosened.
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, "do you know how to make whistles?"
"Ucken Hawwy," murmured Toddie, "does you love dat lady?"
"No, Toddie, of course not."
"Then you's baddy man, an' de Lord won't let you go to heaven if you
don't love peoples."
"Yes, Budge," I answered hastily, "I do know how to make whistles, and
you shall have one."
"Lord don't like mans what don't love peoples," reiterated Toddie.
"All right, Toddie," said I. "I'll see if I can't please the Lord some
way. Driver, whip up, won't you? I'm in a hurry to turn these
youngsters over to the girl, and ask her to drop them into the
bath-tub."
I found Helen had made every possible arrangement for my comfort. Her
room commanded exquisite views of mountain-slope and valley, and even
the fact that the imps' bedroom adjoined mine gave me comfort, for I
thought of the pleasure of contemplating them while they were asleep,
and beyond the power of tormenting their deluded uncle.
At the supper-table Budge and Toddie appeared cleanly clothed in their
rightful faces. Budge seated himself at the table; Toddie pushed back
his high-chair, climbed into it, and shouted:
"Put my legs under ze tabo."
Rightfully construing this remark as a request to be moved to the
table, I fulfilled his desire. The girl poured tea for me and milk for
the children, and retired; and then I remembered, to my dismay, that
Helen never had a servant in the dining-room except upon grand
occasions, her idea being that servants retail to their friends the
cream of the private conversation of the family circle. In principle I
agreed with her, but the penalty of the practical application, with
these two little cormorants on my hands, was greater suffering than any
I had ever been called upon to endure for principle's sake; but there
was no help for it. I resignedly rapped on the table, bowed my head,
said, "From what we are about to receive, the Lord make us thankful,"
and asked Budge whether he ate bread or biscuit.
"Why, we ain't asked no blessin' yet," said he.
"Yes, I did, Budge," said I. "Didn't you hear me?"
"Do you mean what you said just now?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I don't think that was no blessin' at all. Papa never says that
kind of a blessin'."
"What does papa say, may I ask?" I inquired, with becoming meekness.
"Why, papa says, 'Our Father, we thank thee for this food; mercifully
remember with us all the hungry and needy to-day, for Christ's sake,
Amen.' That's what he says."
"It means the same thing, Budge."
"_I_ don't think it does; and Toddie didn't have no time to say HIS
blessin'. I don't think the Lord'll like it if you do it that way."
"Yes, he will, old boy; he knows what people mean."
"Well, how can he tell what Toddie means if Toddie can't say anything?"
"Wantsh to shay my blessin'," whined Toddie.
It was enough; my single encounter with Toddie had taught me to respect
the young gentleman's force of character. So again I bowed my head, and
repeated what Budge had reported as "papa's blessin'," Budge kindly
prompting me where my memory failed. The moment I began, Toddie
commenced to jabber rapidly and aloud, and the instant the "Amen" was
pronounced he raised his head and remarked with evident satisfaction:--
"I shed my blessin' TWO timesh."