Budge & Toddie; Or, Helen's Babies at Play. Habberton John

best.”

      “Only this once,” murmured Mrs. Burton to herself, as she led the way to the dining-room closet, partly for the purpose of hiding her own face. “And I won’t tell Harry about it,” she continued, with greater energy. “Here’s a little piece for Toddie, too,” said Mrs. Burton, “and I want you both to remember that I don’t want you to come indoors until you’re called.”

      Budge disappeared, and his aunt had an hour so peaceful that she began to react against it and started to call her nephews into the house. Budge came in hot haste in answer to her call, and volunteered the information that the Burton chicken-coop was much nicer than the one at his own house, for the latter was without means of ingress for small boys. Toddy, however, came with evident reluctance, and stopped en route to sit on the grass and gyrate thereon in a very constrained manner.

      “What’s the matter, Toddie?” asked Mrs. Burton, who speedily discerned that the young man was ill at ease.

      “I GOT INTO A HEN’S NESHT WHERE THERE WAS SOME EGGS”

      “Why,” said Toddie, “I got into a hen’ nesht where there was some eggs, an’ made believe I was a henny-penny that was goin’ to hatch little tsickens, an’ some of ’em was goin’ to be brown, an’ some white an’ some black, an’ dey was all goin’ to be such dear little fuzzy balls, an’ dey was goin’ to sleep in the bed wif me every night, an’ I was goin’ to give one of de white ones to dat dear little baby sister, an’ one of ’em to you, ’cause you was sweet, too, an’ dey was all goin’ to have tsickens of deir own some day, an’ I sitted down in de nesht ever so soffaly ’cause I hasn’t got fevvers, you know, an’ when I got up dere wasn’t nuffin dere but a nasty muss. An’ I don’t feel comfitable.”

      Mrs. Burton grasped the situation at once, and shouted: “Toddie, sit down on the grass. Budge, run home and ask Maggie for a clean suit for Toddie. Jane, fill the bathtub.”

      “Don’t want to sit on the gwass,” whined Toddie. “I feels bad, an’ I wantsh to be loved.”

      “Aunty loves you very much, Toddie,” said Mrs. Burton, tenderly. “Doesn’t that make you happy?”

      “No,” exclaimed the youth with great emphasis. “Dat kind of lovin’ don’t do no good to little boys with eggy dresses. Wantsh you to come out an’ sit down by me an’ love me.”

      Toddie’s eyes said more than his lips, so Mrs. Burton hurried out to him, prudently throwing a light shawl about her waist. Toddie greeted her with an effusiveness which was touching in more senses than one, as Mrs. Burton’s morning robe testified by the time Budge returned. Carefully enveloped in a hearth-rug, Toddie was then conveyed to the bathroom, and when he emerged he was so satisfied with the treatment he had received that he remarked:

      “Aunt Alice, will you give me a forough baff every day, if I try to hatch out little tsickens for you?”

      The events of the morning resulted in luncheon being an hour late, so Mrs. Burton was compelled to make considerable haste in preparing herself for a round of calls. She was too self-possessed, however, to forget the possible risks to which her home would be subjected during her absence, so she called her nephews to her and proceeded to instruct them in the duties and privileges of the afternoon.

      “Darlings,” she said, putting an arm around each boy, “Aunt Alice must be away this afternoon for an hour or two. I wonder who will take care of the house for her?”

      “I want to go wif you,” said Toddie, with a kiss.

      “I can’t take you, dear,” said the lady, after returning Toddie’s salute. “The walk will be too long; but auntie will come back to her dear little Toddie as soon as she can.”

      “Oh, you’re goin’ to walk to where you’ goin’, are you?” said Toddie, wriggling from his aunt’s arm. “Den I wouldn’t go wif you for noffin’ in the wyld.”

      The pressure of Mrs. Burton’s arm relaxed, but she did not forget her duty.

      “Listen, boys,” said she. “Don’t you like to see houses neatly and properly arranged, like your mamma’s and mine?”

      “I do!” said Budge. “I always think heaven must be that way, with parlors an’ pictures an’ books an’ a piano. Only they don’t ever have to sweep in heaven, do they, ’cause there ain’t no dirt there. But I wonder what the Lord does to make the little angels happy when they want to make dirt-pies, and can’t?”

      “Aunt Alice will have to explain that to you when she comes back, Budge. But little angels never want to make mud-pies.”

      “Why, papa says people’s spirits don’t change when they die,” said Budge. “So how can little boy angels help it?”

      Mrs. Burton silently vowed that at a more convenient season she would deliver a course of systematic theology which should correct her brother-in-law’s loose teachings. At present, however, the sun was hurrying toward Asia, and she had made but little progress in securing insurance against accident to household goods.

      “You both like nicely arranged rooms,” pursued Mrs. Burton, but Toddie demurred.

      “I don’t like ’em,” said he. “They’re the kind of places where folks always says ‘Don’t!’s to little boysh that wantsh to have nysh times.”

      “But, Toddie,” reasoned Mrs. Burton, “the way to have nice times is to learn to enjoy what is nicest. People have been studying how to make homes pretty ever since the world began.”

      “Adam an’ Eve didn’t,” said Toddie. “Lord done it for ’em; an’ he let ’em do just what dey wanted to. I bet little Cain an’ Abel had more fun than any uvver little boys dat ever was.”

      “Oh, no, they didn’t,” said Mrs. Burton, “because they never were in that lovely garden. Their parents had to think and plan a long time to make their home beautiful. Just think, now, how many people have had to plan and contrive before the world got to be as pleasant a place as it is now! When you look at your mamma’ parlor and mine, you see what thousands and millions of people have had to work to bring about.”

      “Gwacious!” exclaimed Toddie, his eyes opening wider and wider. “Dat’s wonnerful!”

      “Yes, and every nice person alive is doing the same now,” continued Mrs. Burton, greatly encouraged by the impression she had made, “and little boys should try to do the same. Every one should, instead of disturbing what is beautiful, try to enjoy it, and want to make it better instead of worse. Even little boys should feel that way.”

      “I’e goin’ to ’member that,” said Toddie, with a far-away look. “I fink it awful nysh for little boys to fink the same finks dat big folks do.”

      “Dear little boy,” said Mrs. Burton, arising. “Then you won’t let anybody disturb anything in Aunt Alice’s house, will you? You’ll take care of everything for her just as if you were a big man, won’t you?”

      “Yesh, indeedy,” said Toddie.

      “An’ me, too,” said Budge.

      “You’re two manly little fellows, and I shall have to bring you something real nice,” said Mrs. Burton, kissing her nephews good-by. “There!” she whispered to herself, as she passed out of the garden-gate, “I wonder what my lord and master will say of that victory over imperfect natures, of the sense of the fitness of things? He would have left the boys under the care of the servants; I am proud of having been able to leave them to themselves.”

      On her return, two hours later, Mrs. Burton was met at her front door by two very dirty little boys, with faces full of importance and expectancy.

      “We done just what you told us, Aunt Alice,” said Toddie. “We didn’t touch a thing, an’ we thought of everything