"Is Mr. Burton the uncle you are looking for?"
"I don't know any Mr. Burton," said Budge, a little dazed; "uncle is
mamma's brother, an' he's been livin' at our house ever since mamma an'
papa went off visitin', an' he goes ridin' in our carriage, an'--"
"Humph!" remarked the lady, with so much emphasis that Budge ceased
talking. A moment later she said:--
"I didn't mean to interrupt you, little boy; go on."
"An' he rides with just the loveliest lady that ever was. HE thinks so,
an' _I_ KNOW she is. An' he 'spects her."
"What?" exclaimed the old lady.
"--'Spects her, I say--that's what HE says. _I_ say 'spects means just
what _I_ call LOVE. Cos if it don't, what makes him give her hugs and
kisses?"
Mrs. Mayton caught her breath, and did not reply for a moment. At last
she said:--
"How do you know he--gives her hugs and kisses?"
"Cos I saw him, the day Toddie hurt his finger in the grass-cutter. An'
he was so happy that be bought me a goat-carriage next morning--I'll
show it to you if you come down to our stable, an' I'll show you the
goat too. An' he bought--"
Just here Budge stopped, for Mrs. Mayton put her handkerchief to her
eyes. Two or three moments later she felt a light touch on her knee,
and, wiping her eyes, saw Budge looking sympathetically into her face.
"I'm awful sorry you feel bad," said he.
"Are you 'fraid to have your little girl ridin' so long?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Mrs. Mayton, with great decision.
"Well, you needn't be," said Budge, "for Uncle Harry's awful careful
an' smart."
"He ought to be ashamed of himself!" exclaimed the lady.
"I guess he is, then," said Budge, "cos he's ev'rything he ought to be.
He's awful careful. T'other day, when the goat ran away, an' Toddie an'
me got in the carriage with them, he held on to her tight, so she
couldn't fall out."
Mrs. Mayton brought her foot down with a violent stamp.
"I know you'd 'spect HIM, if you knew how nice he was," continued
Budge. "He sings awful funny songs, an' tells splendid stories."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the angry mother.
"They ain't no nonsense at all," said Budge. "I don't think it's nice
for to say that, when his stories are always about Joseph, an' Abraham,
an' Moses, an' when Jesus was a little boy, an' the Hebrew children,
an' lots of people that the Lord loved. An' he's awful 'fectionate,
too."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Mayton.
"When we says our prayers we prays for the nice lady what he 'spects,
an' he likes us to do it," continued Budge.
"How do you know?" demanded Mrs. Mayton.
"Cos he always kisses us when we do it, an' that's what my papa does
when he likes what we pray."
Mrs. Mayton's mind became absorbed in earnest thought, but Budge had
not said all that was in his heart.
"An' when Toddie or me tumbles down an' hurts ourselves, 'tain't no
matter what Uncle Harry's doin' he runs right out an' picks us up an'
comforts us. He froed away a cigar the other day, he was in such a
hurry when a wasp stung me, an' Toddie picked the cigar up and ate it,
an' it made him AWFUL sick."
The last-named incident did not affect Mrs. Mayton deeply, perhaps on
the score of inapplicability to the question before her. Budge went
on:--
"An' wasn't he good to me today? Just cos I was forlorn, cos I hadn't
nobody to play with, an' wanted to die an' go to heaven, he stopped
shavin', so as to comfort me."
Mrs. Mayton had been thinking rapidly and seriously, and her heart had
relented somewhat toward the principal offender.
"Suppose," said she, "that I don't let my little girl go riding with
him any more?"
"Then," said Budge, "I know he'll be awful, awful unhappy, an' I'll be
awful sorry for him, cos nice folks oughtn't to be made unhappy."
"Suppose, then, that I DO let her go," said Mrs. Mayton.
"Then I'll give you a whole stomachful of kisses for being so good to
my uncle," said Budge. And assuming that the latter course would be the
one adopted by Mrs. Mayton, Budge climbed into her lap and began at
once to make payment.
"Bless your dear little heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Mayton; "you're of the
same blood, and it IS good, if it IS rather hasty."
As I arose the next morning, I found a letter under my door.
Disappointed that it was not addressed in Alice's writing, I was
nevertheless glad to get a word from my sister, particularly as the
letter ran as follows:--
"JULY 1, 1875.
"DEAR OLD BROTHER,--I've been recalling a fortnight's experience WE
once had of courtship in a boarding-house, and I've determined to cut
short our visit here, hurry home, and give you and Alice a chance or
two to see each other in parlors where there won't be a likelihood of
the dozen or two interruptions you must suffer each evening now. Tom
agrees with me, like the obedient old darling that he is; so please
have the carriage at Hillcrest station for us at 11:40 Friday morning.
Invite Alice and her mother for me to dine with us Sunday,--we'll bring
them home from church with us.
"Lovingly, your sister, HELEN.
"P. S. Of course you'll have my darlings in the carriage to receive me.
"P. P. S. WOULD it annoy you to move into the best guest-chamber?--I
can't bear to sleep where I can't have THEM within reach."
Friday morning they intended to arrive,--blessings on their thoughtful
hearts!--and THIS was Friday. I hurried into the boys' room, and
shouted:--
"Toddie! Budge! who do you think is coming to see you this morning?"
"Who?" asked Budge.
"Organ-grinder?" queried Toddie.
"No, your papa and mamma."
Budge looked like an angel in an instant, but Toddie's eyes twitched a
little, and he mournfully murmured:--
"I fought it wash an organ-grinder."
"O Uncle Harry!" said Budge, springing out of bed in a perfect delirium
of delight, "I believe if my papa an' mamma had stayed away any longer,
I believe I would DIE. I've been SO lonesome for 'em that I haven't
known what to do--I've cried whole pillowsful about it, right here in
the dark."
"Why, my poor old fellow," said I, picking him up and kissing him, "why
didn't you come and tell Uncle Harry, and let him try to comfort you?"
"I COULDN'T," said Budge; "when I gets lonesome, it feels as if my
mouth was all tied up, an' a great big stone was right in here." And
Budge put his hand on his chest.
"If a big'tone wazh inshide of ME," said Toddie, "I'd take it out an'
frow it at the shickens."
"Toddie," said I, "aren't you glad papa an' mamma are coming?"
"Yesh," said Toddie, "I fink it'll be awfoo nish. Mamma always bwings
me candy fen she goes away anyfere."
"Toddie, you're a mercenary wretch."
"AIN'T a mernesary wetch; Izhe Toddie Yawncie."
Toddie made none the less haste in dressing than his brother, however.
Candy was to him what some systems of theology are to their
adherents--not a very lofty motive of action but sweet, and something
he could fully understand; so the energy displayed in getting himself
tangled up in his clothes was something wonderful.
"Stop, boys," said I, "you must have on clean clothes to-day. You don't
want your father and mother to see you all dirty, do you?"
"Of course not," said Budge.
"Oh, Izh I goin' to be djessed up all nicey?" asked Toddie. "Goody!
goody! goody!"
I always thought my sister Helen had an undue amount of vanity, and
here it was reappearing in the second generation.
"An' I wantsh my shoes made all nigger," said Toddie.
"What?"
"Wantsh my shoesh made all nigger wif a bottle-bwush, too," said Toddie.