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

executed. A bit of wall several feet long, and bare from floor to ceiling, except for a single picture, had long troubled Mrs. Burton’ artistic eye, and she now found that tasteful minds, like great ones, think alike.

      “I think no room is perfect without flowers,” said Budge; “so does papa an’ mamma, so we thought we’d s’prise you with some.”

      On the floor, in a heap which was not without tasteful arrangement, was almost a cartload of stones disposed as a rockery, and on the top thereof, and working through the crevices, was a large quantity of street dust. From several of the crevices protruded ferns, somewhat wilted, and bearing evidence of having been several times disarranged and dropped upon the dry soil which partly covered their roots. Around the base was twined several yards of Virginia creeper while from the top sprang a well-branched specimen of the “Datura stramonium” (the common “stink-weed”). The three conservators of the beautiful gazed in silence for a moment, and then Toddie looked up with angelic expression and said:

      “Isn’t it lovaly?”

      “ISN’T IT LOVALY?”

      “I hope what you brought us is real nice,” remarked Budge, “for ’twas awful hard work to make that rockery. I guess I never was so tired in all my life. Mamma’s is on a big box, but we couldn’t find any boxes anywhere, an’ we couldn’t find the servants to ask ’em. That ain’t the kind of datura that has flowers just like pretty vases, but papa says it’s more healthy than the tame kind. The ferns look kind o’s thirsty, but I couldn’t see how to water ’em without wettin’ the carpet, so I thought I’d wait till you came home, and ask you about it.”

      There was a sudden rustle of silken robes and two little boys found themselves alone. When, half an hour later, Mr. Burton returned from the city, he found his wife more reticent than he had ever known her to be, while two workmen with market baskets were sifting dust upon his hall-carpets and making a stone-heap in the gutter in front of the house.

CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

      On the morning of the second day of Mrs. Burton’s experiment, the aunt of Budge and Toddie awoke with more than her usual sense of the responsibility and burden of life. Her husband’s description of a charming lot of bric-à-brac and pottery soon to be sold at auction did not stimulate as much inquiry as such announcements usually did, and Mrs. Burton’s cook did not have her usual early morning visit from her watchful mistress. Mrs. Burton was wondering which of her many duties to her nephews should be first attended to; but, as she wondered long without reaching any conclusion an ever-sympathizing Providence came to her assistance, for the children awoke and created such a hubbub directly over her head that she speedily determined that reproof was the first thing in order. Dressing hastily, she went up to the chamber of the innocents, and learned that the noise was occasioned by a heavy antique center-table, which was flying back and forth across the room, the motive power consisting of two pairs of sturdy little arms.

      “Hullo, Aunt Alice!” said Budge. “I awful glad you came in. The table’s a choo-choo, you know, an’ my corner’s New York an’ Tod’s is Hillcrest, an’ he’s ticket-agent at one place an’ I at the other. But the choo-choo hasn’t got any engineer, an’ we have to push it, an’ it isn’t fair for ticket-agents to do so much work besides their own. Now you can be engineer. Jump on!”

      The extempore locomotive was accommodatingly pushed up to Mrs. Burton with such force as to disturb her equilibrium, but she managed to say:

      “Do you do this way with your mamma’ guest-chamber furniture?”

      “No,” said Toddie, “ ’cause why, ’pare-chamber’h always lockted. B’ides dat, papa once tookted all de wheels off our tables—said tables wash too restless.”

      “Little boys,” said Mrs. Burton, returning the table to its place, “should never use things which belong to other people without asking permission. Nor should they ever use anything, no matter who it belongs to, in any way but that in which it was made to be used. Did either of you ever see a table on a railroad?”

      “ ’Coursh we did,” said Toddie, promptly; “dere’s a tyne-table at Hillcrest, an’annuvver at Dzersey City. How could choo-choos turn around if dere wasn’t?”

      “It’s time to dress for breakfast now,” said Mrs. Burton in some confusion, as she departed.

      The children appeared promptly at the table on the ringing of the bell and brought ravenous appetites with them. Mrs. Burton composed a solemn face, rapped on the table with the handle of the carving-knife, and all heads were bowed while the host and hostess silently returned thanks. When the adults raised their heads they saw that two juvenile faces were still closely hidden in two pairs of small hands. Mrs. Burton reverently nodded at each one to attract her husband’ attention, and mentally determined that souls so absorbed in thanksgiving were good ground for better spiritual seed than their parents had ever scattered. Slowly, however, twice ten little fingers separated, and very large eyes peeped inquiringly between them; then Budge suddenly dropped his hands, straightened himself in his chair, and said:

      “Why, Uncle Harry! Have you been forgettin’ again how to ask a blessin’?”

      And Toddie, looking somewhat complainingly at his uncle, and very hungrily at the steak, remarked:

      “Said my blessin’ ’bout fifty timesh.”

      “Once would have been sufficient, Toddie,” said Mrs. Burton.

      “Why didn’t you say yoursh once, den?” asked Toddie.

      “I did. We don’t need to talk aloud to have the Lord hear us,” explained Mrs. Burton.

      “ ’Posin’ you don’t,” said Toddie, “I don’t fink it’s a very nysh way to do, to whisper fings to de Lord. When I whisper anyfing mamma says, ‘Toddie, what’s you whisperin’ for? You ’shamed of somefing?’s Guesh you an’ Uncle Harry’s bofe ’shamed at de same time.”

      Mr. Burton desired to give his wife a pertinent hint yet dared not while two such vigilant pairs of ears were present. A happy thought struck him and he said in very bad German:

      “Is it not time for the reformation to begin?”

      And Mrs. Burton answered:—

      “It soon will be.”

      “That’s awful funny talk,” said Budge. “I wish I could talk that way. That’s just the way ragged, dirty men talk to my papa sometimes, and then he gives ’em lots of pennies. When was you an’ Aunt Alice ragged an’ dirty, so as to learn to talk that way?”

      “Budge, Budge!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton. “Thousands of very rich and handsome people talk that way—all German people do.”

      “Do they talk to the Lord so?” asked Budge.

      “Certainly,” said Mrs. Burton.

      “Gracious!” exclaimed the young man. “He must be awful smart to understand them.”

      Mr. Burton repeated his question in German, but Mrs. Burton kept silent and looked extremely serious, with a ghost of a frown.

      “What are you boys and your auntie going to do with yourselves to-day?” asked Mr. Burton, anxious to clear away the cloud of reticence which, since the night before, had been marring his matrimonial sky.

      “I guess,” said Budge, looking out through the window, “it’s going to rain; so the best thing will be for Aunt Alice to tell us stories all day long. We never do get enough stories.”

      “Just the thing!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, her face coming from behind the clouds, and with more than its usual radiance.

      “Hazh