"I froed 'em away--don't want no ole flowers in my dolly's k'adle.
That's ze way she wocks--see!" And this horrible little destroyer of
human hopes rolled that box back and forth with the most utter
unconcern, as he spoke endearing words to the substitute for my
beautiful bouquet!
To say that I looked at Toddie reprovingly is to express my feelings in
the most inadequate language, but of language in which to express my
feelings to Toddie. I could find absolutely none. Within two or three
short moments I had discovered how very anxious I really was to merit
Miss Mayton's regard, and how very different was the regard I wanted
from that which I had previously hoped might be accorded me. It seemed
too ridiculous to be true that I, who had for years had dozens of
charming lady acquaintances, and yet had always maintained my common
sense and self-control; I, who had always considered it unmanly for a
man to specially interest himself in ANY lady until he had an income of
five thousand a year; I who had skilfully, and many times, argued, that
life-attachments, or attempts thereat, which were made without a
careful preliminary study of the mental characteristics of the partner
desired, was the most unpardonable folly,--I had transgressed every one
of my own rules, and, as if to mock me for any pretended wisdom and
care, my weakness was made known to me by a three-year-old marplot and
a hideous rag-doll!
That merciful and ennobling dispensation by which Providence enables us
to temper the severity of our own sufferings by alleviating those of
others, came soon to my rescue. Under my stern glance Toddie gradually
lost interest in his doll and its cradle, and began to thrust forth and
outward his piteous lower lip and to weep copiously.
"Dee Lord, not make me sho bad," he cried through his tears. I doubt
his having had any very clear idea of what he was saying, or whom he
was addressing; but had the publican of whose prayer Toddie made so
fair a paraphrase worn such a face when he offered his famous petition,
it could not have been denied for a moment. Toddie even retired to a
corner and hid his face in self-imposed penance.
"Never mind, Toddie," said I, sadly; "you didn't mean to do it, I know."
"I wantsh to love you," sobbed Toddie.
"Well, come here, you poor little fellow," said I, opening my arms, and
wondering whether 'twas not after contemplation of some such sinner
that good Bishop Tegner wrote:--
"Depths of love are atonement's depths, for love is atonement"
Toddie came to my arms, shed tears freely upon my shirt-front, and
finally, after heaving a very long sigh, remarked:--
"Wantsh YOU to love ME"
I complied with his request. Theoretically, I had long believed that
the higher wisdom of the Creator was most frequently expressed through
the medium of his most innocent creations. Surely here was a
confirmation of my theory, for who else had ever practically taught me
the duty of the injured one toward his offender? I kissed Toddie and
petted him, and at length succeeded in quieting him; his little face,
in spite of much dirt and many tear-stains, was upturned with more of
beauty in it than it ever held when its owner was full of joy; he
looked earnestly, confidingly, into my eyes, and I congratulated myself
upon the perfection of my forgiving spirit, when Toddie suddenly
re-exhibited to me my old unregenerate nature, and the incompleteness
of my forgiveness, by saying:--
"Kish my dolly, too."
I obeyed. My forgiveness was made complete, but so was my humiliation.
I abruptly closed our interview. We exchanged "God bless you's,"
according to Budge's instructions of the previous night, and at least
one of the participants in this devotional exercise hoped the petitions
made by the other were distinctly heard. Then I dropped into an
easy-chair in the library, and fell to thinking. I found myself really
and seriously troubled by the results of Toddie's operation with my
bouquet. I might explain the matter to Miss Mayton--I undoubtedly
could, for she was too sensible a woman to be easily offended merely by
a ridiculous mistake, caused by a child. But she would laugh at ME--how
could she help it?--and to be laughed at by Miss Mayton was a something
the mere thought of which tormented me in a manner that made me fairly
ashamed of myself. Like every other young man among young men, I had
been the butt of many a rough joke, and had borne them without wincing;
it seemed cowardly and contemptible that I should be so sensitive under
the mere thought of laughter which would probably be heard by no one
but Miss Mayton herself. But the laughter of a mere acquaintance is
likely to lessen respect for the person laughed at. Heavens! the
thought was unendurable! At any rate, I must write an early apology.
When I was correspondent for the house with which I am now salesman I
reclaimed many an old customer who had wandered off--certainly I might
hope by a well-written letter to regain in Miss Mayton's respect
whatever position I had lost. I hastily drafted a letter, corrected it
carefully, copied it in due form, and forwarded it by the faithful
Michael. Then I tried to read, but without the least success. For hours
I paced the piazza and consumed cigars; when at last I retired it was
with many ideas, hopes, fears, and fancies which had never before been
mine. True to my trust, I looked into my nephews' room; there lay the
boys, in postures more graceful than any which brush or chisel have
ever reproduced. Toddie, in particular, wore so lovely an expression
that I could not refrain from kissing him. But I was none the less
careful to make use of my new key, and to lock my other door also.
The next day was the Sabbath. Believing fully in the binding force and
worldly wisdom of the Fourth Commandment, so far as it refers to rest,
I have conscientiously trained myself to sleep two hours later on the
morning of the holy day than I ever allowed myself to do on business
days. But having inherited, besides a New England conscience, a New
England abhorrence of waste, I regularly sit up two hours later on
Saturday nights than on any others; and the night preceding this
particular Sabbath was no exception to the rule, as the reader may
imagine from the foregoing recital. At about 5.30 A. M., however, I
became conscious that my nephews were not in accord, with me on the
Sinaitic law. They were not only awake, but were disputing vigorously,
and, seemingly, very loudly, for I heard their words very distinctly.
With sleepy condescension I endeavored to ignore these noisy
irreverents, but I was suddenly moved to a belief in the doctrine of
vicarious atonement, for a flying body, with more momentum than weight,
struck me upon the not prominent bridge of my nose, and speedily and
with unnecessary force accommodated itself to the outline of my eyes.
After a moment spent in anguish, and in wondering how the missive came
through closed doors and windows, I discovered that my pain had been
caused by one of the dolls, which, from its extreme uncleanness, I
suspected belonged to Toddie; I also discovered that the door between
the rooms was open.
"Who threw that doll?" I shouted, sternly. There came no response.
"Do you hear?" I roared.
"What is it, Uncle Harry?" asked Budge, with most exquisitely polite
inflection.
"Who threw that doll?"
"Huh?"
"I say, who threw that doll?"
"Why, nobody did it."
"Toddie, who threw that doll?"
"Budge did," replied Toddie in muffled tones, suggestive of a brotherly
hand laid forcibly over a pair of small lips.
"Budge, what did you do it for?"
"Why--why--I--because--why, you see--because, why, Toddie froo his
dolly in my mouth; some of her hair went in, any how, an' I didn't want
his dolly in my mouth, so I sent it back to him, an' the foot of the
bed didn't stick up enough, so it went from the door to your
bed--that's what for."
The explanation seemed to bear marks of genuineness, albiet the pain of
my eye was not alleviated thereby, while the exertion expended in
eliciting the information had so thoroughly awakened me that further
sleep was out of the question. Besides, the open door,--had a burglar
been in the room? No; my watch and pocketbook were undisturbed. "Budge,
who opened that door?"
After some hesitation, as if wondering who really did it, Budge
replied:--
"Me."
"How did you do it?"
"Why, you see we wanted a drink, an' the door was fast, so we got out
the window on the parazzo roof, an' comed in your window." (Here a
slight pause.) "An' 'twas fun. An' then we unlocked the door, an' comed
back."
Then I should be compelled to lock my window-blinds--or theirs, and
this in the summer season, too! Oh, if Helen could have but passed the
house as that white-robed procession had filed along the piazza-roof! I
lay pondering over the vast amount of unused ingenuity that was locked
up in millions of children, or employed only to work misery among
unsuspecting adults, when I heard light footfalls at my bedside, and
saw a small shape with a grave face approach and remark:--
"I wants to come in your bed."
"What for, Toddie?"
"To fwolic; papa always fwolics us Sunday mornin's. Tum, Budgie, Ocken
Hawwy's doin' to fwolic us."
Budge replied by shrieking with delight, tumbling out of bed, and
hurrying to that side of my bed not already occupied by Toddie. Then
those two little savages sounded the onslaught and advanced
precipitately upon me. Sometimes, during the course of my life, I have
had day-dreams which I have told to no one. Among these has been
one--not now so distinct as it was before my four years of
campaigning--of one day meeting in deadly combat the painted Indian of
the plains; of listening undismayed to his frightful war-whoop, and of
exemplifying in my own person the inevitable result of the pale-face's
superior intelligence. But upon this particular Sunday morning I
relinquished this idea informally, but forever. Before the advance of
these diminutive warriors I quailed contemptibly, and their battle-cry
sent more terror to my soul than that member ever experienced from the
well-remembered rebel yell. According to Toddie, I was going to
"fwolic" THEM; but from the first they took the whole business into
their own little but effective hands. Toddie pronounced my knees,
collectively a-horsie "bonnie," and bestrode them, laughing gleefully
at my efforts to unseat him, and holding himself in position by digging
his pudgy fingers into whatever portions of my anatomy he could most
easily seize. Budge shouted, "I want a horsie, too!" and seated himself
upon my chest. "This is the way the horsie goes," explained he, as he
slowly rocked himself backward and forward. I began to realize how my
brother-in-law, who had once been a fine gymnast, had become so
flat-chested. Just then Budge's face assumed a more spirited
expression, his eyes opened wide and lightened up, and, shouting, "This
the way the horsie TROTS," he stood upright, threw up his feet, and
dropped his forty-three avoirdupois pounds forcibly upon my lungs. He
repeated this operation several times before I fully recovered from the
shock conveyed by his combined impudence and weight; but pain finally
brought my senses back, and with a wild plunge I unseated my demoniac
riders and gained a clear space in the middle of the floor.
"Ah--h--h--h--h--h--h," screamed Toddie, "I wants to wide horshie
backen."
"Boo--oo--oo--oo--," roared Budge, "I think you're real mean. I don't
love you at all."
Regardless alike of Toddie's desires, of Budge's opinion, and the
cessation of his regard, I performed a hasty toilet. Notnwithstanding
my lost rest, savagely thanked the Lord for Sunday; at church, at
least, I could be free from my tormentors. At the breakfast-table both
boys invited themselves to accompany me to the sanctuary, but I
declined without thanks. To take them might be to assist somewhat in
teaching them one of the best of habits, but I strongly doubted whether
the severest Providence would consider it my duty to endure the
probable consequences of such an attempt. Besides I MIGHT meet Miss
Mayton. I both hoped and feared I might, and I could not, endure the
thought of appearing before her with the causes of my pleasant
REMEMBRANCE. Budge protested and Toddie wept, but I remained firm,
although I was so willing to gratify their reasonable desires that I
took them out for a long ante-service walk. While enjoying this little
trip I delighted the children by killing a snake and spoiling a slender
cane at the same time, my own sole consolation coming from the
discovery that the remains of the staff were sufficient to make a cane
for Budge. While returning to the house and preparing for church I
entered into a solemn agreement with Budge, who was usually recognized
as the head of this fraternal partnership. Budge contracted, for
himself and brother, to make no attempts to enter my room; to refrain
from fighting; to raise loose dirt only with a shovel, and to convey it
to its destination by means other than their own hats and aprons; to
pick no flowers; to open no water-faucets; to refer all disagreements
to the cook, as arbitrator, and to build no houses of the new books
which I had stacked upon the library table. In consideration of the
promised faithful observance of these conditions I agreed that Budge
should be allowed to come alone to Sabbath school, which convened
directly after morning service, he to start only after Maggie had
pronounced him duly cleansed and clothed. As Toddie was daily kept in
bed from eleven to one, I felt that I might safely worship without
distracting fears, for Budge could not alone, and in a single hour,
become guilty of any particular sin. The church at Hillcrest had many
more seats than members, and as but few summer visitors had yet
appeared in the town, I was conscious of being industriously stared at
by the native members of the congregation. This was of itself
discomfort enough, but not all to which I was destined, for the usher
conducted me quite near to the altar, and showed me into a pew whose
only other occupant was Miss Mayton! Of course the lady did not
recognize me--she was too carefully bred to do anything of the sort in
church, and I spent ten uncomfortable minutes in mentally abusing the
customs of good society. The beginning of the service partially ended
my uneasiness, for I had no hymn-book,--the pew contained none,--so
Miss Mayton kindly offered me a share in her own. And yet so
faultlessly perfect and stranger-like was her manner that I wondered
whether her action might not have been prompted merely by a sense of
Christian duty; had I been the Khan of Tartary she could not have been
more polite and frigid. The music to the first hymn was an air I had
never heard before, so I stumbled miserably through the tenor, although
Miss Mayton rendered the soprano without a single false note. The
sermon was longer than I was in the habit of listening to, and I was
frequently conscious of not listening at all. As for my position and
appearance, neither ever seemed so insignificant as they did throughout
the entire service.
The minister reached "And finally, dear brethren," with my earnest
prayers for a successful and speedy finale. It seemed to me that the
congregation sympathized with me, for there was a general rustle behind
me as these words were spoken. It soon became evident, however, that
the hearers were moved by some other feeling, for I heard a profound
titter or two behind me. Even Miss Mayton turned her head with more
alacrity than was consistent with that grace which usually
characterized her motions, and the minister himself made a pause of
unusual length. I turned in my seat, and saw my nephew Budge, dressed
in his best, his head irreverently covered, and his new cane swinging
in the most stylish manner. He paused at each pew, carefully surveyed
its occupants, seemed to fail in finding the object of his search, but
continued his efforts in spite of my endeavors to catch his eye.
Finally, he recognized a family acquaintance, and to him he unburdened
his bosom by remarking, in tones easily heard throughout the church:--
"I want to find my uncle."
Just then he caught my eye, smiled rapturously, hurried to me and laid
his rascally soft cheek confidingly against mine, while an audible
sensation pervaded the church. What to do or say to him I scarcely
knew; but my quandary was turned to wonder, as Miss Mayton, her face
full of ill-repressed mirth, but her eyes full of tenderness, drew the
little scamp close to her, and Mssed him soundly. At the same instant,
the minister, not without some little hesitation, said, "Let us pray."
I hastily bowed my head, glad of a chance to hide my face; but as I
stole a glance at the cause of this irreligious disturbance, I caught
Miss Mayton's eye. She was laughing so violently that the contagion was
unavoidable, and I laughed all the harder as I felt that one
mischievous boy had undone the mischief caused by another.
After the benediction, Budge was the recipient of a great deal of
attention, during the confusion of which I embraced the opportunity to
say to Miss Mayton:--
"Do you still sustain my sister in her opinion of my nephews, Miss
Mayton?"
"I think they're too funny for anything," replied the lady, with great
enthusiasm. "I DO wish you would bring them to call upon me. I'm
longing to see an ORIGINAL young gentleman."
"Thank you," said I. "And I'll have Toddie bring a bouquet by way of
atonement."
"Do," she replied, as I allowed her to pass from the pew. The word was
an insignificant one, but it made me happy once more.
"You see, Uncle Harry," exclaimed Budge, as we left the church
together, "the Sunday-school wasn't open yet, an' I wanted to hear if
they'd sing again in church; so I came in, an' you wasn't in papa's
seat, an' I knew you was SOMEwhere, so I LOOKED for you."
"Bless you," thought I, snatching him into my arms as if to hurry him
into Sabbath school, but really to give him a kiss of grateful
affection, "you did right--EXACTLY right."
My Sunday dinner was unexceptional in point of quantity and quality,
and a bottle of my brother-in-law's claret proved to be most excellent;
yet a certain uneasiness of mind prevented my enjoying the meal as
thoroughly as under other circumstances I might have done. My
uneasiness came of a mingled sense of responsibility and ignorance. I
felt that it was the proper thing for me to see that my nephews spent
the day with some sense of the requirements and duties of the Sabbath;
but how I was to bring it about, I hardly knew. The boys, were too
small to have Bible-lessons administered to them, and they were too
lively to be kept quiet by any ordinary means. After a great deal of
thought, I determined to consult the children themselves, and try to
learn what their parents' custom had been.
"Budge," said I, "what do you do Sundays when your papa and mama are
home? What do they read to you,--what do they talk about?"
"Oh, they swing us--lots!" said Budge, with brightening eyes.
"An' zey takes us to get jacks," observed Toddie.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Budge; "jacks-in-the-pulpit--don't you know?"
"Hum--ye--es; I do remember some such thing in my youthful days. They
grow where there's plenty of mud, don't they?"
"Yes, an' there's a brook there, an' ferns, an' birch-bark, an' if you
don't look out you'll tumble into the brook when you go to get birch."
"An' we goes to Hawksnest Rock," piped Toddie, "an' papa carries us up
on his back when we gets tired."
"An' he makes us whistles," said Budge.
"Budge," said I, rather hastily, "enough. In the language of the poet
"'These earthly pleasures I resign,'
and I'm rather astonished that your papa hasn't taught you to do
likewise. Don't he ever read to you?"
"Oh, yes," cried Budge, clapping his hands, as a happy thought struck
him. "He gets down the Bible--the great BIG Bible, you know--an' we all
lay on the floor, an' he reads us stories out of it. There's David, an'
Noah, an' when Christ was a little boy, an' Joseph, an'
turnbackPharo'sarmyhallelujah--"
"And what?"
"TurnbackPharo'sarmyhallelujah," repeated Budge. "Don't you know how
Moses held out his cane over the Red Sea, an' the water went way up one
side, an' way up the other side, and all the Isrulites went across?
It's just the same thing as DROWNoldPharo'sarmyhallelujah--don't you
know?"
"Budge," said I, "I suspect you of having heard the Jubilee Singers."
"Oh, and papa and mama sings us all those Jubilee songs--there's 'Swing
Low,' an' 'Roll Jordan,' an' 'Steal Away,' an' 'My Way's Cloudy,' an'
'Get on Board, Childuns,' an' lots. An' you can sing us every one of
'em."
"An' papa takes us in the woods, an' makesh us canes," said Toddie.
"Yes," said Budge, "and where there's new houses buildin', he takes us
up ladders."
"Has he any way of putting an extension on the afternoon?" I asked.
"I don't know what that is," said Budge, "but he puts an India-rubber
blanket on the grass, and then we all lie down an' make b'lieve we're
soldiers asleep. Only sometimes when we wake up papa stays asleep, an'
mama won't let us wake him. I don't think that's a very nice play."
"Well, I think Bible stories are nicer than anything else, don't you?"
Budge seemed somewhat in doubt. "I think swingin' is nicer," said
he--"oh, no;--let's get some jacks--I'LL tell you what!--make us
whistles an' we can blow on 'em while we're goin' to get the jacks.
Toddie, dear, wouldn't YOU like jacks and whistles?"
"Yesh--an' swingin'--an' birch--an' wantsh to go to Hawksnesh Rock,"
answered Toddie.
"Let's have Bible stories first," said I. "The Lord mightn't like it if
you didn't learn anything good to-day."
"Well," said Budge, with the regulation religious-matter-of-duty-face,
"let's. I guess I like 'bout Joseph best."
"Tell us 'bout Bliaff," suggested Toddie.
"Oh, no, Tod," remonstrated Budge; "Joseph's coat was just as bloody as
Goliath's head was." Then Budge turned to me and explained that "all
Tod likes Goliath for is 'cause when his head was cut off it was all
bloody." And then Toddie--the airy sprite whom his mother described as
being irresistibly drawn to whatever was beautiful--Toddie glared upon
me as a butcher's apprentice might stare at a doomed lamb, and
remarked:--
"Bliaff's head was all bluggy, an' David's sword was all bluggy--bluggy
as everyfing."
I hastily breathed a small prayer, opened the Bible, turned to the
story of Joseph, and audibly condensed it as I read:--
"Joseph was a good little boy whose papa loved him very dearly. But his
brothers didn't like him. And they sold him, to go to Egypt. And he was
very smart, and told the people what their dreams meant, and he got to
be a great man. And his brothers went to Egypt to buy corn, and Joseph
sold them some, and then he let them know who he was. And he sent them
home to bring their papa to Egypt, and then they all lived there
together."
"That ain't it," remarked Toddie, with the air of a man who felt
himself to be unjustly treated. "Is it, Budge?"
"Oh, no," said Budge, "you didn't read it good a bit; I'LL tell you how
it is. Once there was a little boy named Joseph, an' he had eleven
budders--they was AWFUL eleven budders. An' his papa gave him a new
coat, an' his budders hadn't nothin' but their old jackets to wear. An'
one day he was carryin' 'em their dinner, an' they put him in a deep,
dark hole, but they didn't put his nice new coat in--they killed a kid,
an' dipped the coat--just think of doin' that to a nice new coat--they
dipped it in the kid's blood, an' made it all bloody."
"All bluggy," echoed Toddie, with ferocious emphasis. Budge continued:--
"But there were some Ishmalites comin' along that way, and the awful
eleven budders took him out of the deep dark hole, an' sold him to the
Ishmalites, an' they sold him away down in Egypt. An' his poor old papa
cried, an' cried, 'cause he thought a big lion ate Joseph up; but he
wasn't ate up a bit; but there wasn't no post-office nor choo-choos,
[Footnote: railway cars] nor stages in Egypt, an' there wasn't any
telegraphs, so Joseph couldn't let his papa know where he was; an' he
got so smart an' so good that the king of Egypt let him sell all the
corn an' take care of the money; an' one day some men came to buy some
corn, an' Joseph looked at 'em an' there they was his own budders! An'
he scared 'em like everything; I'D have SLAPPED 'em all if I'D been
Joseph, but he just scared 'em, an' then he let 'em know who he was,
an' he kissed 'em an' he didn't whip 'em, or make 'em go without their
breakfast, or stand in a corner, nor none of them things; an' then he
sent 'em back for their papa, an' when he saw his papa comin', he ran
like everything, and gave him a great big hug and a kiss. Joseph was
too big to ask his papa if he'd brought him any candy, but he was awful
glad to see him. An' the king gave Joseph's papa a nice farm, an' they
all had real good times after that."
"And they dipped the coat in the blood; an' made it all bluggy,"
reiterated Toddie.
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, "what do you think MY papa would do if he
thought I was all ate up by a lion? I guess he'd cry AWFUL, don't you?
Now tell us another story--oh, I'LL tell you--read us 'bout--"
"'Bout Bliaff," interrupted Toddie.
"YOU tell ME about him, Toddie," said I.
"Why," said Toddie, "Bliaff was a brate bid man, an' Dave was brate
little man, an' Bliaff said, 'Come over here'n an' I'll eat you up,'
an' Dave said, '_I_ ain't fyaid of you.' So Dave put five little stones
in a sling an' asked de Lord to help him, an' let ze sling go bang into
bequeen Bliaff's eyes an' knocked him down dead, an' Dave took Bliaff's
sword an' sworded Bliaff's head off, an' made it all bluggy, an' Bliaff
runned away." This short narration was accompanied by more spirited and
unexpected gestures than Mr. Gough ever puts into a long lecture.
"I don't like 'bout Goliath at all," remarked Budge. "I'D like to hear
'bout Ferus."
"Who?"
"Ferus; don't you know?"
"Never heard of him, Budge."
"Why--y--y--!" exclaimed Budge; "didn't you have no papa when you was a
little boy?"
"Yes, but he never told me about any one named Ferus; there's no such
person named in Anthon's Classical Dictionary, either. What sort of a
man was he?"
"Why, once there was a man, an' his name was Ferus--Offerus, an' he
went about fightin' for kings, but when any king got afraid of anybody,
he wouldn't fight for him no more. An' one day he couldn't find no
kings that wasn't afraid of nobody. An' the people told him the Lord
was the biggest king in the world, an' he wasn't afraid of nobody or
nothing. An' he asked 'em where he could find the Lord, and they said
he was way up in heaven so nobody couldn't see him but the angels, but
he liked folks to WORK for him instead of fight. So Ferus wanted to
know what kind of work he could do, an' the people said there was a
river not far off, where there wasn't no ferry-boats, cos the water run
so fast, an' they guessed if he'd carry folks across, the Lord would
like it. So Ferus went there, and he cut him a good, strong cane, an'
whenever anybody wanted to go across the river he'd carry 'em on his
back.
"One night he was sittin' in his little house by the fire, and smokin'
his pipe an' readin' the paper, an' 'twas rainin' an' blowin' an'
hailin' an' stormin', an' he was so glad there wasn't anybody wantin'
to go 'cross the river, when he heard somebody call out 'Ferus!' An' he
looked out the window, but he couldn't see nobody, so he sat down
again. Then somebody called 'Ferus!' again, and he opened the door
again, an' there was a little bit of a boy, 'bout as big as Toddie. An'
Ferus said, 'Hullo, young fellow, does your mother know you're out?'
An' the little boy said, 'I want to go 'cross the river.'--'Well,' says
Ferus, 'you're a mighty little fellow to be travelin' alone, but hop
up.' So the little boy jumped up on Ferus's back, and Ferus walked into
the water. Oh, my--WASN'T it cold? An' every step he took that little
boy got heavier, so Ferus nearly tumbled down an' they liked to both
got drownded. An' when they got across the river Ferus said, 'Well, you
ARE the heaviest small fry I ever carried,' an' he turned around to
look at him, an' 'twasn't no little boy at all--'twas a big man--'twas
Christ. An' Christ said, 'Ferus, I heard you was tryin' to work for me,
so I thought I'd come down an' see you, an' not let you know who I was.
An' now you shall have a new name; you shall be called CHRISTofferus,
cos that means Christ-carrier.' An' everybody called him Christofferus
after that, an' when he died they called him SAINT Christopher, cos
Saint is what they called good people when they're dead."
Budge himself had the face of a rapt saint as he told this story, but
my contemplation of his countenance was suddenly arrested by Toddie,
who, disapproving of the unexciting nature of his brother's recital,
had strayed into the garden, investigated a hornet's nest, been stung,
and set up a piercing shriek. He ran in to me, and as I hastily picked
him up, he sobbed:--
"Want to be wocked. [Footnote: Rocked.] Want 'Toddie one boy day.'"