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The Author of - Helen's Babies " dedicated that bo.,k " To the Parents of tlie Best Children in the World " ; and his commercial hint appended thereunto was so' generally taken, tliat he is impelled by selHshness to seek even a larger class to which to inscribe the present volume. He, therefore, dedicates it, with the customary injunction, to ci n [hoae fliho hm fjour lo fanase |ther people' taking to his own soul the assurance, that if all of them buy the book, the demand for printing presses will be such as never before was known. ti OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. . THE writer of a ccjrtaiii niuch-.ibustMl book sat a breakfast one morning with his wife, and their conveisation turned, as it had done many times before, upon a brace of boys who have made mucli fun for the lovers of trifling stories and a great deal of trouble for their uncle. Mrs. Burton, thanks to that womanly gen- erosity which, like a garment, covers the faults of men who are liappily married, was so proud of her husband that she admired even iiis wretched book ; she had made magnificent attempts to defend it at points where it was utterly indefensible ; but her critical sense had been fre- quently offended by her husband's ignorance about the management of children. On the particular morning re- ferred to, this critical sense was extremely active, whether because of unusual surcease from care during the week, or because the tender-loin steak belied its name and was underdone, the author had not sufficient tim*^ to determine by logical effort, for he was compelled to devote his entire energies to the art of self-defense. Like a prudent gen- eral who acknowledges to himself the superiority of his antagonist's force, he attempted to create diversions, but the weakness of all of these was recognized at sight, and treated with merited contempt. "To think, Harry," said Mrs. Burton, " that you gave so little true personal attention to Budge and Toddie, while you pretended to love them with the tenderness peculiar to blood-relationship, is to wonder whether some 6 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. people do not really expect children to grow as the forest trees grow, utterly without care or training." " I spent most of my time," said Mr. Burton, attack- ing his steak with more energy than was called for at the breakfast-table of a gentleman whose business-hours were easy — " I spent most of my time in saving their parents' property and their own lives from destruction. When had I an opportunity to do anything else 1 " A smile of conscious superiority, the honesty of which made it none the less tantalizing, passed lightly over Mrs. Burton's composed features as she replied : " All the while. Yoi misapplied your time by endeavouring to correct the misapplications of juvenile spirit, whereas you should have so treated the little darlings that mis- applied energy would have been impossibla An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." Mr. Burton had always hated pro\erbs, and now, as he did not know who originated Mrs. Burton's closing quotation, he mentally made a heavy loaded scapegoat of the wise Solomon, and thought things that should never be whispered in orthodox ears. Mrs. Burton continued : " You should have explained to them the necessity for peace, order, cleanliness and self-restraint. Do you imagine that, had you done so, their pure little hearts would not have received it all and acted upon it ? " Mr. Burton ojfFered a Yankee reply. " Do you suppose, my dear," said he, " that the neces- sity for all these virtues was never brought to their notice ? Did you never hear the homely but significant saying, that you may lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink 1 " With the promptness* born of true intuition, Mra. ■^\/\ < 1 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. -i' '1 Burton went around this verbal obstacle instead of at- tempting to reduce it. " You might at least have attempted to teach them something of the inner significance of things," said Mrs. Burton. " Thi^n they would have brought a truer sense to the contemplation of everything about them." Mr. Burton gazed with admiration almost worshipful at this pure, noble creature, whose impulses had Iqd her irresistibly to the discernment of the motives of action, and, with becoming humility, he remarkec. " Will you tell me how you would have explained the inner significance of dirt, so that these boys could have been trusted to cross a dry road without creating for themselves a halo which should be more visible than luminous ? " " Don't trifle about serious matters, Harry," said Mrs. Burton, after a hasty but evident search for a reply. *• You know that conscience and aesthetic sense lead to correct lives all persons who subject themselves to their influence, and you know that the purest natures are the most susceptilde. If men and women, warped and mis- trained as their earlier lives may have been, grow into sweetness and light under right incentives, what may not be done with those of whom it was said, * Of such is the kingdom of heaven ' ? " Mr. Burton instinctively bowed his head at his wife's last words ; but raised it speedily as the lady uttered an opinion which was probably suggested by the holy senti- ment she had just expressed. " Then you allowed them to be so dreadfully irreve- rent in their conversations about holy things," said she. "Keally, my dear," expostulated the victim, "you must charge up some of these faults to the children's parents. I had nothing to do with the formation of the OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. children's habits, and their peculiar habit of talking about what you call holy things is inherited directly from their parents. Tom Lawrence says, he doesn't believe it was ever intended that mere mention of a man in Holy Writ should be a patent of holiness, and Helen agrees with him." Mrs. Burton coughed. It is surprising what a multi- tude of suggestions can be conveyed by a gentle cough. At any rate, the slight laryngeal disturbance to which Mrs. Burton gave expression prepared her husband quite fully for what, followed. " I suppose,*" said Mrs. Burton, slowly, as if musing aloud, " that inheritance is the method by which children obtain many objectionable qualities, for which they themselves are blamed, poor little things. I don't know ^ how to sympathise in the least degree with this idea of Tona's and Helen's, for the Maytons and my mother's family, too, have always been particularly reverent to- ward sacred things. I know very well that you are right in laying the fault to them instead of the children ; but I cannot see how they can bear to inflict such a habit upon innocent children, and I must say that I can't see how they can tolerate it in each other ; but faraili^fs are dif- ferent." Mrs. Burton raised her napkin, and with fastidious solicitude brushed a tiny crumb or two from her robe as she finished this remark. Blessed creature ! She needed to display aotm human weakness to convince her hnsband that she was not altogether too good for earth, and this implication of a superiority of origin, the darling idea of every woman but Eve, answered the purpose perfectly. Her spouse endured the infliction as good husbands always do in similar cases, though he somewhat hastily t' « OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 9 ^\ 4 passed his coffee-cup for more sugar, and asked, in a tone in which self-restraint was distinctly perceptible : " What else, my dear ? " Mrs. Burton suddenly comprehended the situation, and she instantly left her chair and made that atonement which is always sufficient between husband and wife, and then said : " Only one thing more, you dear old boy, aild even that is a repetition, I suppose. It's only this : parents are about as remiss as loving uncles are in training their children, instead of merely watching them. The impress of the older and wiser mind should be placed upon the child from the earliest dawn of its intelligence, so that the little ones shall be determined, instead of being left to chance." " And the impress is readily made, of course, even by a love-struck uncle on a short vacation 1 " " Certainlv ; even wild animals are often tamed at sight by masWminds." " But suppose these impressible little beings should have opinions and wishes and intentions of their own 1 " " They should be overcome by the adult mind." « And if they object ] " •' That should make no difference," said Mrs. Burton, gaining suddenly an inch or two in stature and queenly beauty. , " Do you mean that you would really make them obey you ] " asked Mr. Burton, with a gaze as reverent as if the answer would be by absolute authority. " Certainly ! " replied the lady, adding a grace or two to her fully aroused sense of command. " By Jove ! " exclaimed her husband, " what a re- markable coincidence. That is just what I determined upon when I first took charge of those boys. And yet-" 10 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. "And yet you failed," said Mr. Burton. "How I wish I had been in your place ? " "So do I, my dear," said Mrs. Burton ; or at least I would wish so if I didn't remember that if you had had charge of those chi Iren instead of me, there wouldn't have happened any of the blessed accidents that helped to make you Mrs. Burton." The lady smiled graciously, and answered : " I mavhave the opportunity yet ; in fact— it's too bad that 1 haven't yet learned how to keep anything secret trom you— 1 have arranged for just such an experiment. And I m sure tihat Helen and Tom, as well as you, will learn that I am right." ' " I suppose you will try it while I'm away on my Spring trip among the dealers ? " queried Mr. Burton, h^tily Or, he continued, " if not, I know you love me well enough to give me timely notice, so I can make a timely excuse to get away from home. When is it to be ?" Mrs. Burton replied by a look which her husband was utterly failing to comprehend, when there came help to him from n unexpected source. There were successive and violent rings of the door-bell, and as many tremen- dous pounds, apparently with half a brick, at the back- door. Then there ensued a violent slamming of doors a trampling in the hall as of many war-horses, and a loud high-pitched shout of, " I got in fyst," and a louder! deeper one of, " So did I ! " And then, as Mr. and Mrs. Burton sprang from their chairs, with faces full of appre- hension and inquiry, the dining-room door opened, and Budge and Toddie shot in as if propelled from a catapult. m 1 j" '. ,"'V-'"""^« ouugu, vy way of greeting, as loadie wriggled from his aunt's embrace, and seized the tail of the family Skye terrier. " What do you think I in 111' I I OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 11 a ^« i r now ? We've got a new baby, and Tod and I have come down here to stay for a few Jays ; papa told us to. Don't seem to me you had a very nice breakbux," conchided Budge, after a critical survey of the table. " And it's only jes' about so long," said Toddie, from whose custody the dog " Terry" had hurriedly removed his tail, by the conclusive proceeding of conveying his whole body out of doors — " only jes' so long 1 " repeated Toddie, placing his pudgy hands a few inches apart, and contracting every feature of his countenance, as if to in- dicate the extreme diminutiveness of the new heir. Mrs. Burton kissed with more than usual fervour her nephews and her husband, and inquired as to the sex of the new inhabitant. "Oh, that's the nicest thing about it," said Budge. " It's a girl. I'm tired of such lots of boys— Tod is as bad as a whole lot, you know, when I have to take care of him. Only now we're bothered, 'cause we don't know what to name her. Mamma told us to think of the love- liest thing in all the world, so I thought about squash- pie right away ; but Tod thought of molasses candy, and then papa said neither of 'em would do for the name of a little girl. I don't see that they're not as good as roses and violets, and all the other things that they name little girls after." During the delivery by Budge of this information, Toddie had been steadily exclaiming, "I — I — I— I — I— I ! " hke a prudent parliamentarian who wants to make sure of recognition by the Chair. In his excitement, he failed to realize for some seconds that his brother had concluded, but he finally exclaimed : " An' I — I — I— I— I'm goin' to give her my turtle, an' show her how to make mud pies wif currants in 'em." " Han ! " said Budge, with inexpressible contempt in 12 OTHER PEOPLE^s CHILDREN. " Well, anyhow," said Toddie with tho .i <• who was wrestline victorv fr^r.'i, • -*"■ ""^ * "a" give her caterpSfrs UnowTh.-n"*"""" °' <'«'■«'"' " I'" 'cause they Jgotlviivr acku Xh '" ^^^ "'""•' an- red an' brown, like iad.Kit"' ''"'"'«"'y-S^-«'' me htd"Vdo\o git ttrbat'" 1°-?^ P,™^'"' '^'"» -'' just makes me afhe to think ^Utt . W^^ , "a^' ' ^' weeks and mpnths ! ' ' "''»'<' "^^ys a"'! goin%oft tauIiTtlouIf H '"t^'^',^ ^"""'«™^« -- listen to us But I in«V3t- .J'"''' "»» ">» busy to biggesht papa,t- ju^r^h^rp^^Liih't i\r '^^^'"^ comeded. 0^ Ts I^'' T^",* .'T ^"' "'« baby Why don't ^<,„ be r"al good L-'plflot jTh ^"^ '1" »o»^get a dear, sweet, little UbyP' '""""" ""J'-''*^ which movement soon detioZ 7Z"i T7''\''™' Being not unacouainted wifh Vi. I ® ''^'^ e^ase. their tender merer "to**^ ^ c\ Uke tE oTtl, '"??"/ Tem^ souffht and fnnn^ „ f t ^® °* ''*^® wicked, came-^ pauring Sack "^ J^T- TT^' *"<* *e boy curb. Mrs lurton' whif /^•'^""'^'y "P"" ">« well- »pon her h^S shlw rfoo^d mT?'"" '"T'^ and murmured : tenderly upon them . 'I The poor little darlings aro b™„.i,i. .,_ , ., " R";h'r ^'"•.'"y '^ign <^ begin i:lT, .T™'"^^- *<»- Both boys looked up at tL windX; Mrs. Burton rB OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 13 >S gracefully framed a well- posed picture of herself as she leaned upon the sill, and her husband hung admiringly upon her words. " Boys, come in the house, and let's have a lovely talk about mamma." " Don't want to talk about mamma," said Toddie, a suspicion of a snarl modifying his natural tones. " Want the dog." " But mammas and babies are so much nicer than dogs," pleaded Mrs. Burton, after a withering glance at the husband, who had received Toddie's remark with a titter. " Well, /don't think so," saidBudge. reflectively. " We can always see mamma and the baby, but Terry we can only see once in a while, and he never wants to see us^ somehow." " My dear," said Mr. Burton, humbly, " if you care for the experience of another, my advice is that you let those boys come out of their disappointment themselves. They'll do it in their own way in spite of you." " There are experiences," remarked Mrs. Burton, with chilling dignity, " which are useful only through the rea- lization of their worthlessness. Any one can let children alone. Darlings, did you ever hear the story of little Patty Pout ] " ** No," growled Budge, in a manner that would have discouraged any one Lot conscious of having been born to rule. " Well, Patty Pout was a uice little girl," said Mrs. Burton, " except that she would suDc whenever things did not happen just as she wanted them to do. One day sne had a stick of candy, and was playing ' lose and find ' with it ; but she happened once to put it a way so care- fully that she forgot where it was, so she sat down to sulk, and suddenly there came up a shower and melted /// 14 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. I that stick of candy, which had been just around the corner all the while." "Is Terry just around the corner?" asked Toddie jumping up sullenly, while Budge suddenly scraped the dirt with the toes of his shoes and said ; "If she'd et up her candy while she had it she wouldn't have had any trouble." Mr. Burton hurried into the back parlor to laugh com- tortably, and without visible disrespect, while Mrs Burton remembered that it was time to ring the cook and chambermaid to breakfast. A moment or two later she returned to the window, but the boys were gone • so was a large stone jar, which was one of those family heirlooms which are abhorred by men, but loved more dearly by women than ancestral robes or jewels. Mrs. Burton had that mania for making presents which pos- terity has inflicted upon even some of the brightest and best members of the race, and the jar in question had been carefully sealed that morning and set in the sun, pre- paratory to being filled with raspberry jam. " Harry," said Mrs. Burton, " won't you just step out ^^?/^t.^ ^^ J^^ ^^^ ^^ ^ ^* ^^^^ ^6 ^^y ^y this time." Mr. Burton consulted his watch, and replied : " I've barely time to catch the fast train to town, my dear ; but the boys won't fail to get back by dinner-time; then you may be able to ascertain the jar's whereabouts." Mr. Burton hurried out the front door, and his wife made no less haste in the the opposite direction. The boys were invisible, and a careful glance at the adjacent country showed no traces of them. Mrs. Burton called the cook and chambermaid, and the three women took each one a i-oadway through the lightly-wooded ground near the house. Mrs. Burton soon recognized familiar voices, and following them to their source, she emerged OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 15 from the wood near the rear of the boy's own home. Going closer, she traced the voices to tlie Lawrence barn, and she appeared before the door of that structure to see her beloved jar in the middle of the floor, and full of green tomatoes, over which the boys were pouring the contents of bottles labelled "Mexican Mustang Lini- ment " and " Superior Carriage Varnish." The boys be- come conscious of the presence of their aunt, and Toddie, witl a smile in which confidence blended with the assur- ance of success attained, said : " ^ Ye's makin' pickles for you, 'cause you told us a nice attle story. This is just the way mamma makes 'em, only vre couldn't make the stuff" in the bottles hot." Mrs. Burton's readiness of expression seemed somehow to fail her, and as she abruptly quitted the spot, with a hand of each nephew in her own. Budge indicated tho nature of her feelings by exclaiming : " Ow ! Aunt Alice ! don't squeeze my hand so hard !" '' Boys," said Mrs. Burton, " why did you take my jar without permission ? " *' What did you say 1 " asked Budge. " Do you mean what did we take it for ? " " Certainly." " Why, we wanted to give you a s'prise." *• You certainly succeeded," said Mrs. Burton, without a moment's hesitation. " You must give us s'prises, too," said Toddie ; " s'prises is lovaly : pa gives us lots of 'em. Sometimes they're candy, but they're nicest when they're buttonanoes " (bananas). " How would you like to be shut up in a dark room all mornnig, to think about the naughty things you've done? " asked Mrs. Burton. " Huh ! " replied Budge, " that wouldn't be no s'prise 16 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. at all ; we can do that any time that we do anything bad, and papa and mamma finds out. Why, you forgot to bring your pickles home ; I don't think you act vtry nice about presents and s'prises." Mrs. Bnrton did not explain, nor did shv:, spend much time in conversation. When she reached her own door, however, she turned and said : " Now, boys, you may play anywhere in the yard that you like, but you must not go away or come into the house until 1 call you, at twelve o'clock. I shall be very busy this morning, and must not be disturbed. Now you will try to be good boys, won't you 1 " " / will," exclaimed Toddy, turning up an honest little face for a kiss, and dragging his aunt down until he could put his arms about her and give her an affectionate hug. Budge, however, seemed lost in meditation, but the sound of the closing of the door brought him back to earth, and he threw the door open, and exclaimed : " Aunt Alice ! " « What 1 " " Come here — I want to ask you something." " It's your business to come to Twe, Budge, if you ^lave ^ a favour to ask," said Mrs. Burton, from the parlor. > , " Oh! Well, what I want to know is, how did the Lord make the first hornet — the very first one that ever was?" " Just the way he made everything else," replied Mrs. Burton ; "just by wanting it done." " Then did Noah save hornets in the ark 1" continued Budge ; " 'cause I don't see how he kept 'em from sting- ing his boys and girls, and then getting killed 'emselves." '■• You ask me ail about it after iunch, Budge," said Mrs. Burton, and play." and I will tell you all I can. Now run I OTHER PEOPLES CHILDREN. 17 I The door closed again, and Mrs. Burton, somewhat confused, but s ill resolute, seated herself at the piano for practice. She had been playing perhaps ten minutes, when a long-drawn sigh from some one not herself, caused her to turn hastily and behold the boy, Budge. A stern reproof was all ready, but somehow it never reached the young man. Mrs. Burton afterward explained her silence by saying that Budge's countenance was so utterly doleful that she was sure his active conscience had rea- lized the impropriety of his affair with the jar, and he had come to confess. ' ' fhinb^^^'^^'f'" '^^^ ?"^S^' "^^ y«" know I don't think much of your garden ? There ain't a turtle to be found m it from one end to the other, and no nice grassy placn to slide down like there is at our house " « Can't you understand, little boy," said Mrs. Burton. that we arranged the house and grounds to suit our' selves, and not little boys who come to see us ? " dn"!If^'R f""^^ f^"^ ^^'''' ^^ ^ ^^^y^ic^ thing to do, said Budge. « My papa says we ought to care as much about pleasing other folks as we do for ourselves /didn't want to make you that jar of pickles but Tod said tVould be nice for you, so I went and did t, instead of asking a man that drove past to give mo a ride tS the way you ought to do about gardens." "Suppose you run out now," said Mrs. Burton: "I told you not to come in until I called you " fV.r^"- ^'''' '^^ ^ u^^'^t'" ^^' "^y *°P-I iaid it down in It all ifiTkTf^'l^^ ^ 'T ^"' ""^ "«^ it ^i^'t there at all Id like to know what you've done with it and why folks can't let little bovs' things alnn. '^ ' *' See here, Budge," said Mrs. Burton, turning suddenly the piano-stool, "I think there's a very Lss iSe B on 18 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. boy around here somewhere. Suppose I were to lose something ! " " 'Twas a three-cent top," said Budge, '"twasn't only a something." " Suppose, then, that I were to lose a top," said Mrs. Burton, " what do you suppose I would do if I wanted it very much 1 " " You'd call the girl to find it — that's what I want you to do now," said Budge. " I =^houldn't .do anything of the kind," said Mrs. Bur- ton. Try to think, now, of what a sensible person ought to do in such a case." Budge dejectedly traced with his toe one of the figures in the cai'pet, and seemed buried in thought ; suddenly, however, his face brightened, and he looked up shyly and said with an infinite scale of inflection — " / know." " I thought you would find out," said Mrs. Burton, with an encouraging kiss and embrace, which Budge ter- minated quite abruptly. " One victory lo report to my superior officer, the dear old humbug," murmured Mrs. Burton as she turned again to the keyboard. But before the lady could again put herself en rapport with the composer, Eudge came flying into the room with a radiant face, and the missing top. " I told you I l:new what you'd do," said fie, " an' I just went and don: \i<. I prayed to the Lord about it. I went up stairs mi\.> '^hrmber and shut the door, and knelt down an' said, ' T;. rLofcl bless everybody, an' don't let me be bad an* luip v ? t»v find thah^np again, an' don't let me have to pray ? bx it . ^ long as i iiad to pray for that baby, for Christ's sake, Amen.' And then when I came down stairs there was that top on the register, just where I a i 1 \ t I 1^ OTHER PEOPLE*S CHILDRBIT. 19 I left it. Piay, Au it, Alice, I think brekbux wae an aw- ful long while ago ; don't you have cakes and oranges to give to little ooys ? " " 01 jldren should never eat between meals," said Mrs. Burton, promptly. ♦' It spoils their digestion and makes them cross." " Then I guess my digestion's spoilt already," said Budge, " for I'am awful cross sometimes, an' you can't spoil a bad egg— that's what Mike says. So I guess I'd better have some cake— I like the kind with raisins an' citron best." " Only this once," muttered 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 wmH tell Harry about it," she continued with greater energy " Now 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 in-doors until you're called." Budge disappeared, and his aunt had an hour so peace- ful that she began herself 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 infor- mation that the Burton chicken-coop was a great deal nice tian the one at his own house, for the latter was without means of the ingress for small boys. Toddy, how- ever, came with evident reluctance, and stopped en route to sit on the grass and gyrate thereon in a very con- strained manner. " What's the matter, Toddie ? " asked Mrs. Burton, whose keen eye speedily discerned that the young man was ill at ease. " Why," said Toddie, " I got into a hen's nest where there was some eggs, an' made believe I was a henny- penny that was goin' to hatch little tsickens, an' some of lU T' i.":,friyi 20 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN: 'em was goin' to be brown, an' some white an' some black, an' they was all goin' to be such dear little fuzzy balls, an' they was goin' to sleep in the bed wif me every night, I was goin' to give one of the white ones to that dear an little baby sister, an' one of 'em to you, 'cause you was sweet, too, an' they was all goin' to have tsickens of their own some day, an' I sitted down in the nest ever so soffaly 'cause 1 hasn't got fessers, you know, an' when T got up there wasn't nuffin there but a nasty muss. An 1 don't feel comfitable." Mrs. Burton 'grasped the situation at once, and shout- ed : "Toddie, sit right down on the grass. Budge, run home and ask Maggie for a clean suit for Toddie. Jane, fill the bath-tub." . rr aa- «t " Don't want to sit on the grass,' whined lodaie. i feels bad, an' I want to be loved." *' Aunty loves you very much, Toddie, said Mrs. Bur- ton, tenderly. " Doesn't that make you happy ?" " No " exclaimed the young man, with great emphasis, " tJiai kind of lovin' don't do no good to little boys with eggy dresses. Wants you to come out an' sit down by me an' love me." , tit d * Toddie's eyes said more than his lips, and Mrs. Burton hurried out to him, prudently throwing a light shawl about her .vaist. Toddie greeted her with an effusive- ness which was touching in more senses than one, as Mrs. Burton's morning robe testified to even the most careless eye by the time that Budge returned. Carefully envel- oped in a hearth-rug, Toddie was then conveyed to the bath-room, and when he emerged he was so satisfied with the treatment he had received that he remarked : "Aunt Alice, will yea give me a forough h&n' every day if I try to hatch out little tsickens for yor ] " The events of the morning resulted in lunch being an ' y " OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 21 «'T .. hour late, so that 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 dur- ing her absence, so she called her nephews to her, and proceeded to instruct them in the duties and privileges of the afternoon. Her husband, like any other man, and with a man's deplorable blindness to the finer qualities of child-nature, would have considered that the occasion called only for terse threats and rude bribes ; but Mrs. Burton was true to her sex and her avowed theories, so she proceeded to appeal to the higher natures of the children. " Darlings ! " said she, 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, returning Tod- die'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're goin*, are you f said Toddie, wriggling from his aunt's arm. " Then I wouldn't go wif you for noffin' in the wyld." The pressure of Mrs. Burton's arm relaxed consider- ably, 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?" " / doj" said Budp'e^ " I alwavs 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 22 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 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," said Mrs. Burton. " Why, papa says people's spirits don't change when they die," said Budge ; " so how can little boy angels help it 1" Mrs. Burton silently vowed that at a more convenient season she would deliver a course of systematic theology which should coirect her brother-in-law's loose teachings. At present, however, the sun was hurrying toward Asia, and she made but little progress in securing insur- ance against accident to household goods, " You both like nicely arranged rooms," pursued Mrs. Burton, when Toddie demurred. / don't like 'em," said he, very positively, " They're the kind of places where folks always says ' Don't I ' to little boys that wants to have nice times." " But Toddie," reasoned Mrs. Burton, " the way to have nice times is to learn to enjoy what is nicest. Peo- ple have been studying how to make homes pretty ever since the world began." " Adam and Eve didn't," said Toddie. '* Lord done it for 'em ; and he let 'em do just what they wanted to. I bet little Cain an' Abel had more fun than any uvver little boys that 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 great deal to make their home beautiful. Just think, now, how many people have had to plan and contrive before the world got to be as plea- sant a place as it is now ! When you look at your mamma's parlor and mine, you see what thousands and millions of people have had to bring about. ' OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 23 " Gwacious ! " exclaimed Toddie, his eyes opening wider and wider, " that's wonnerful ! " " Yes, and every nice person alive is doing the same thing 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 dis- turbing what is beautiful just to try to enjoy it, and want to nixke it better instead of worse. Even little boys should feel that way." " I'se going to lemember that," said Toddie, with a far- away look. " I fink it awful nice for little boys to fink the same finks that 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 ? " " Yes, indeedy," said Toddie. " An' me too," said Budge. " You're two manly little fellows, and I shall have to bring you home 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 won- der what my lord and master will say of that victory over imperfect natures, of the sense of the fitness of things 1 He would have left the boys under the care of the servants ; /am prou.i 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 'V^AA'.r^ U WTrx AiA-rx^i' *-r>.itn\\ n flnr» on' Tiro -fruirfVlf. f\f every fing we could do to make the world pittier. D'just come see," 24 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. With a rather quickened step Mrs. Burton followed her nephews into the back parlor. Furniture, pictures, books, and bric-a-brac were exactly as she left them but some improvements had been designed and partly exe- cuted A bit of wall several feet long, and bare from floor to celling, except for a single picture, had long trou- bled Mrs. Burton's artistic eye, and she now found that tasteful minds, like great ones, think alike. "I think no room is perfect without flowers," said iiudge ; so does papa an' mamma, so we thought we'd s'prise you with some." ^ On the floor, \k 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 dis- arranged 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-brfinched specimen of the Datura stramonium (the common « stink-weed"). The three conservators of the beantitul gazed in silence for a moment, and then Toddie looked up with angelic expression and said : "Isn't it lovaly!" "I hope what you brought us is real nice," remarked iJudge, ' for twas awful hard work to make that rockery 1 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 3 we couldn't find the girls to ask 'em. That ain't the on an ._^_..^„ „ ,„,^ ^^^ ^,,^3 ^„ jjy^^ yjjj j^^g^j ^jjj.^ ^^^ Kind ot datura that has these flowers just like prettv vases, but nana savs it's mnro hpalfbir fKo„ t-u^ 4. kmd. The ferns look kind o'thirsty, but I could not see how to water 'em without wettin' the carpet, so I thought I d wait till you came home, and ask you about it." said OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 25 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 ever he had known her to be while two Milesians, with market-baskets, were sifting dust upon his hall-carpets and making a stone-heap in the gutter in front of the house. ^- uauiC CHAPTER II. 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 hric-fibrac 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 tlie innocents, and found the noise was occasioned by a heavy, antique centre-table, which was flying back and forth across the room, the motive-power consisting of two pairs of sturdy little ^rnjs, mmmmm II n 26 OTHE^ PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. ' Hullo ! Aunt Alice ! " said Budge, " I'se awful glad you came m. The table's a choochoo" (locomotive) " you know, an' my corner's New York an' Tod's is Hill- crest, an' he's ticket-agent at one place an' I at the other. I5ut the choochoo 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 seriously disturb her equilibrium, but she managed to remark • "Do you do thii way with your mamma's guestcham- ber furniture 1 " "No" said Toddy, "'cause why, 'pare-chamber's always lockted. B sides that, papa once tookted all the wheels off our tables— said tables waz too restless." "Little boys," said Mrs. Burton, returning the table to its place with an energy which was somewhat impressive, 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 which it was made to be usrd in. Now, did either of you ever see a table on a railroad ? " " Course we did," said Toddie promptly ; " there's a tyne-table (turntable) at Hilcrest, an' annuvver at Dzer- sey City— how could choochoos turn around if there wasn't ? " " It's time to dress for breakfast now," said Mrs. Bur- ton, 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 tiie table [with the handle of the carving-knife, and ml liead^ were bowed while the host and hostess silently ll ^ ^ ^,f 'fl OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 27 L 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's attention, and mentally determined that souls so absorbed in thanks- giving were good ground for better spiritual seed than Tom and Helen Lawrence had ever scattered. Slowly, however, twice ten little fingers separated, and very large eyes peeped inquiringly between them ; then Budge sud- denly dropped his hands, straightened himself in his chair, and said : " Why, Uncle Harry ! have you been forgetting again how to ask a blessing ? " And Toddie, looking somewhat complainingly at his uncle, and very hungrily at the steak, remarked : " Said my blessin' 'howi fifty times 1 " " Once would have been sufficient, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton. " Why didn't you say youah once, then ? " 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 nice way to do, to whisper fings to the Lord. When / whispei anyfing, mamma says, * Toddie, what's you whisperin' for ? You 'shamed of somefing ) * Guesh, you an' Uncle Harry's bofe 'shamed at the same time." Mr. Burton was very anxious to give his wife a perti- nent hint, yet dared not while two such vigilant pairs of ears were present. A hitppy thought struck him, and he said, in very bad German, — " Is it not time for the reformation to begin 1 " zxiiw With a sentence irreproachable in its grarnriiar and accent, Mrs. Burton answered, — " It soon will be." v.^^ 'mSBSB 28 OTBEB PEOPLE^S CHILDREN. Thats awful funny talk," said Budge. "I wish I could talk that way. That's just the way ragged dirtv men talk to my papa sometimes, and the^n hf 'iv'es 'em lots of pennies. When was you an' Aunt iL^'era Jed an dirty so as to learn to talk that way r' ^^^ of verv f i^h^^^f I" T^'^"^'^ ^f • ^•^^^'^»' " thousands tenp^'ple'do.^"'""^ P^^P^^ ^^^^ ^^-* -^-^» ;;Do they talk to the Lord so ? " asked Budge. " Certainly," said Mrs. Burton. * " Gracious I " eitclaimed the young man « Hr mii«f be awful smart to understand them." ^ Mr. Burton repeated his question in German, but Mrs " What are you boys and your auntie going to do with aTarthTcloud 'V 'V"'^' "l^- ?-ton,'anxfous Z dfar away the cloud of reticence which, since the night before had been marring his matrimonial sky. ^ ' dow "?.^f if^ .^"^^'' ^^^^^".^ ^^^* <^h^«"Sh the win- dow it 8 going to rain ; so the best thine? will be for Aunt Alice to tell us stories all day long. wJ ever 1 get enough stories. " h- ^^^ never ao "Just the thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, her face aske?Tn^5?" got plenty of stories in your stomach?" asked Toddie, poising his fork in air, regardless of the gravy which trickled down upon his hand from he fraa! ment of meat at the end. ** "Dozens of them," said Mrs. Burton. « Only think • I listened to stories in Sunday-school for aKnn. ton - 'ar.' and I've never had anybody to tell them W''" •'^^''' 1 don t think much of Sunday-school stories," said \ u e» i "W, OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 29 T Budge, with the air of a man indulging in an unsatisfac- tory retrospect. " There's always something at the end of 'em that spoils all the good taste of 'em — something about being good little boys." " Aunt Alice's stories haven't any such endings," said Mr. Burton, with a sneaking desire to commit his wife to a policy of simple amusement. " She knows that little boys want to be good, and she wants to see them happy, too." " Aunt Alice will tell you only what you will enjoy, Budge — she promises you that," said Mrs. Burton, with the cheerfulness of assured success. " We will send Uncle Harry away right after breakfast, and then you shall have all the stories you want." "And cake, too ? " asked Toddie. " Mamma always gives us cakes when she's telling us stories, so we'll sit still an' not wiggle about." "No cakes," said Mrs. Burton, kindly but firmly. ** Eating between meals spoils the digestion of little boys, and makes them very cross." " I guess that's what was the matter with Jerry yeestu day, then," said Budge. " He was eating a bone between meals, out in the garden yesterday afternoon, and when I took hold of his back legs and tried to play that he was a wheelbarrow, he bit me." Mr. Burton gave the dog Jerry a sympathetic pat and a bit of meat, making him stand on his hind legs and beg for the latter, to the great diversion of the children. Then, with an affectionate kiss and a look of tender solicitude, he wished his wife a happy day, and hurried off to the city. Mrs. Burton took the children into the library, and picked up a small Bible. " What sort of story would you like first 1 " she asked,, as she slowly turned the leaves. I' so OTffER PEOPLE^S CHILDREN. said Toddt'eateS^'''"' '""" "^ '■""'' ■"""' ^'"''''"'Jy'" "Dear child," exclaimed Mm Burton, "goodness al wayf makes people nice, doesn't it J " sooon^'^ al- little wr"^«^"''^f ' " 'f,?' "''*" ""^y '"'k "b""' it to aJways dfe i " "*' "''*' "'*''"' 8'"^ f°"'» saidfcUS: ^'' ""'' """"• ' '"PP"-' E-x^g"." paStTof i:;^4 "•" '" ^""^ ^"""'"^ "'^^ » """" you to make other people happy first. A great manv couM make people happier than every one else ptt toge- Mre.^Burin"^'"'*"'^ "'''^' "'"" y°" ^^ "'''«''" ""'-l BudL"'"''wK'' """Ty/'P, "^""t it and gro«r, then," said h^rfj n •■ ^ P"' '" ""* 8™""'i »"d watered and h^d« Our 'sparagus grows half-a-foot in a day al- Hir'f^'"'j^* ?/'''• l''l'*y)'"'y to want to be put in the dn^^i Budgie," said Toddie, "an' I isn't goin' w play wif HulerysT"-""""'"'' ^'^ ' '""^"" P'-y -f dyty pC'lT'i^7J:z^!!L'^^^.^^!'.^^...'7<>^ '*e to with water to put"^ 'y;;^''^!^;^ lil^ZwTnl n» #•1 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 31 »\» does people have to stay in the ground when they die before they go to heaven 1" " Three days, I suppose, Budge," and Mrs. Burton. " Cause that's the way it was with Jesus 1 " ^ " Yes, dear. ' " " And, then, does everybody that the Lord loves go up to heaven 1 " " Yes, dear." " Well, papa says some folks believe that dead people never go to heaven." " Never mind what they believe, Budge — you believe what you are taught," said Mrs. Burton. "But I'd like to know for sure." " So you will, some day." " I wish 'twould be pretty quick about it, then," said Budge. *• Now tell us a story." Mrs. Burton drew the children nearer her as she re- opened the Bible, when she discovered, to her surprise, that Toddie was crying. " I hazhn't talked a bit for ever so long ! " he exclaimed, in a high, pathetic tremolo. " What do you want to say, Toddie ? " asked Mrs. Burton. "/know all 'bout burying folks — that's what," said Toddie ; " mamma tolded me all 'bout it one time, she did. An' yeshterday me and Budgie had a funelal all by ourselves. We found a dear little dead byde (bird). An' we w'apped it up in a piesh of paper, 'cause a baking- powder box wazn't biz enough for a coffin, an' we dugged a little grave, an' we knelted down ^n' said a little prayer, an' ashked the Lord to take it up to hebben, an' then we put dyte in the grave an' planted little flowers ail over it— that's what.'^ " Yes, an' we put a little stone at the head of the 32 OTHER PEOPLE 8 CHILDREN, wunner how it'Jl feel to L^h i "r^*'^«" ^' ^^^^^ to inability of her rl" eCein °^^^ «"'**'' ''«y«' ""d 'he again postponed, and wfth » ~n- "H"""' ""•""• «> «•>« ness, the duty of refo™?„/.h?"T^ «^"«« «f it* vast- on things celestial ^abo ft Z""""' °^ ''*'' "^P''^''^ sought an interview and^Zll ^ ?"? '™« ""er cook two of the siIverIbkspo:„7' M™ Bur?" "''""'? "^ the mingled despondency »n»n,„.r j"'"" "«nt into the frequent cond"don of'all T™ " *"^ ''"«^'' "^ich is unfortunate.enougrt: hl:"se^rrnr" "•"""" '"'» - " ^' yan-t? ■'h"'"''" ' " »^e asked, cook; ".Chem'"at ye/orr"."'^ '^l" ^^"^ '^' hez tnik -em." And the nol i"'!^ ""*' ^"^ 'hinWn' auntie?:p„r ff 'an;;'hZf ^^ »' ^^ '^'^^ -y of very'':;Lt?;r^,i;°/t' rh?^^ ^ '"-^ ^■"'g^ '-"^ed through delicacy of f£.ii„*^ f^i"!- -'!"."'" ^"'"^"""g '^^t. telling. ' ■=•*"''"'"' '«ar, ne shrank from What IS it. Budge 1 " asked Mrs. Burton. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 33 Why, you see, said Budge, in the sweetest of tones, 'we wanted something; yesterday to i\vf the grave of the birdie with, an' we couldn't tliink of anythini,' else so nice as spoons There was plenty of ugly old iron ones lyin around, but birdies are so sweet an' nice that I wouldn't have none of them. An' the dinner-dishes was J all lyin there with the big silver spoons on top of 'em ^ 80 T just got two of 'em— they wasn't washed yet, but we washed em real clean so's to be real nice about every- thing, so that if the little birdie's spirit was lookin' at us It wouldn't be disgusted." "And where are the spoons now?" demanded Mrs Burton, oblivious to all the witchery of the child's spirit and appearance. " I dunno," said Budge, becoming an ordinary bov in an instant. '' '' " / doeszh," said Toddie— " I put 'em somewherezh 80 when we wanted to play housh nexsht time we wouldn t have to make believe little sticks was spoons " " Show me immediately where they are," commanded Mrs. Burton, rising from her chair. " Then will you lend 'em to us neksht time we plavzh housh ? " asked Toddie. ^ " No," said Mrs. Burton, with cruel emphasis. Toddie pouted, rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, and led the way to the rear of the garden, where, in a hollow in the base of an old apple-tree, were the missing spoons. Wonderuig whether other valuable property might not be there, Mrs. Burton cautiously and with a stick examined the remaining contents of the hole, and soon discovered one of her damask napkins. ^^ " Thatch goin] to be ourtable-cioff," explained Toddie, " an' that "—this, as an unopened pot of French mustard was unearthed, " is pizzyves" (preserves) C 84 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. Mrs. Burton placed her property in the pocket of her apron, led her two nephews into the house, seated them with unnecessary violence upon a sofa, shut the doors with considerable noise, drew a chair close to the pri- soners, and said ;' Now, boys, you are to be punished for taking auntie's things out of the house without permission." " Don't want to be shpynkted ! " screamed Toddie, in a tone which seemed as an attempt at a musical chorus by a saw-filer and an ungreased wagon-wheel. " You're not to be whipped," continued M^s. Burton, " but you rmst learn not to touch things without per- mission. I think that to go without your dinners would help you to remember that what you have done is naughty." "Iz'he 'most s'tarved to deff," exclaimed Toddie, bursting out crying. (N.B. Breakfast had been finished but a scant hour.) " Then I will put you into an empty room, and keep you there until you are sure you can remember." Toddie shrieked as if enduring the thousand tortures of the Chinese executioner, and Budge looked as unhappy as if he were a young man in love and in the throes of reluctant poesy, but Mrs. Burton led them both to the attic, and into an empty room, placed chairs in two cor- ners, sat a boy in each chair, and said : " Now, don't either of you move out of a chair. Just sit still and think how naughty you've been. In an hour or two I'll come back, and see if you think you can be good boys hereafter." As Mrs. Burton left the room, she was followed by a oxxlicn. vnav occiliCU \i\J piClUC LUU SuiiU VVaiiS 3X10. 00 nCai'd over half the earth. But turning hastily, she saw that Toddie, from whom it had proceeded, had neither fallen u OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 35 „ out of his chair, nor been seized by an epileptic fie, nor stung by some venomous insect ; so she closed the door, locked It, softly placed a chair against it, sat down softly and listened. There was a silence after the several minutes required by Toddie to weary of his crying, and then Mrs. Burton heard the followini' conversation •' ^ "Todd I" " What ? " " We ought to do something ! " " Chop Aunt Alice into little shnips of bitsh— thatsh what / fink would be nysh." "That would be dreadful naughty," said Budge, " after we've bothered her so ! We ought to do some- thing good, just like big folks do when they've been bad." " What doezh big folks do ? " asked Toddie. " Well, they read the Bible and go to church," said Budge. " but you an' me can't go to church, 'cos 'tain't Sunday, and we ain't got no Bible, and we wouldn't know how to read it if we had." " Then don't letsh do noffin' but be awful mad," said the unrepentant Toddie. " I'll tell you what we can do " (this after a short pause) : " Let's do like that Maggy- dalm that mamma's got a picture of, and that was bad an' got sorry j letsh look awful doleful and cwosh. See me." Toddie apparently gave an illustration of what he thought to be the proper penitential countenance and at- titude, for Budge exclaimed : " I don't think that would look nice at all ; it makes you look like a dead puppy-dog with i-is head turned to ouoside. /7UeiI yuu what; we can't read Bibles like big folks, but we can tell stories out of the Bible, an' that's bein' just as good as if we read 'em." 36 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN, " Oh, yes," said Toddie, repenting at once ; lot's. I want to be good just awful" " Well, what shall we tell about 1 " asked Budt'e. " 'Bout when Jesus was a little boy," said Toddie " for he was awful good." ' " No," said Budge j " we've been naughty, an' we must tell about somebody that was awful naughty. I think old Pharaoh's aoout the thing." " Aw wight," said Toddie ; " tell us about him." " Well, once the^re was a bad old king down in E^ypt, that had all the Izzyrelites there an' made 'em work an* when they didn't work he had 'em banged. But that dear little bit of a Moses, that lived in a basket in the river, grew up to be a man, an' he just killed one of Pharaoh's bad bangers, an' then he skooted and hid. An' the Lord saw that he was the kind of man that was good for something, so he told him he wauted him to make Pharaoh let the poor Izzyrelites go where they wanted to. So Moses went and told Pharaoh. An' Pharaoh said, * No, you don't.' Then Moses went an' told the Lord', an' the Lord got awful angry, and turned all the water in the river into blood." "My! "said Toddie. "Then if anybody wanted to look all bluggy, all he had to do was to go in bathing, wasn't it ? " ^ " But he wouldn't let 'era go then," continued Budge. " So the Lord made frogs hop out of all the rivers an' mud-puddles everywhere, and they went into all the houses, an' folks couldn't keep 'em out." " I'd just wish mamma an' me'd been in Egypt, then," said Toddie ; " then she couldn't make me leave my hop- i.,^.,,,., „„„ oi viwiCT, xi DUO i_«uivt vTiiiiiiUu era to stay in the house. I Iwes hop-toads; I fwallowed one the other day, an', it went way down my stomach." OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 37 for )» " Didn't it kick in you 1 " asked Budge, with natural interest. "No-o!" said Toddie. "I bited him in two fyst. liut he growed togcvver agin, an' dzust hopped right out froe the top of my head." ^ "Let's see the hole he came out of?" said Budge starting across the floor. ' " It's all growded up again right away," said Toddie, in haste, an you're a bad boy to get out of your chair when Aunt Alice told you not to, and you've got to tell annuvver story about naughty folks to pay for it — gwon." Budge returned to his chair, and continued : < a"i^"u^^t ^^^^ao^iwent down to Moses's house, an* said. Ask the Lord to make the frogs hop away, an' you can nave y ar old Izzyrelites— / don't want 'em.' So the Lord done it, an' all the glad old Pharaoh was was only because he got rid of 'em ; an' he kept the Izzyrelites some more. Then the Lord thought He'd fix 'em sure, so he turned all the dirt into nasty bugs." " What did little boys do then that wanted dirt to make mud-pies of ? " asked Toddie. " Well the bugs was only made out of dry dirt," ex- claimed Budge ; "just dust like we kick up in the street, you know." ' " Oh," said Toddie. " I wonder if any of them bugs was totatoe-bugs ? " "I dunno," said Budge, "but some of 'em was the kind that mammas catch with fine combs after their little boys have been playing with dirty people's children. An' i^haroah s smart men that thought they could do every- thing, found thev couldn't ro-ake them h\\"H " " Why," said To.ldie, " did JPharaoh w^alit some more of 'em?" " No-o-o, I s'pose not said Budge, " but he stayed bad, 38 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. SO he had to catch it again. The Lord sent whole swarms of flies to Egypt, and there wasn't any musquito-nets in that country either. An' then Pharaoh got good again and the Lord took the flies away, an' Pharaoh got bad again, so the Lord made all the horses and cows awful fi^ck and they all died." "Then couldn't Pharoah go out ridin' at all?" asked loddie. « No," md Budge, " he had to walk, even if he wanted to get to tue dep9t m an awful hurry. An' it made hmi so mad that he said the Izzyrelites shouldn't go anyhow feo Moses look a handful of ashes and threw it up ii> the air before Pharaoh, an' everybody in all Egypt got sore win bails right away." u r t^^'-i -^^^'' '"^^^^^^^ " I had some nashty boils oncesh, but 1 didn t know ashes made 'em ; PU 'member that." " An' Pharaoh said ' No ! ' again, just as cross as the papa ot that nice lady that Peter Gray wanted to marry so he got some more bothers. The Lord made great big lumps of ice tumble down out of heaven, and he made the thmider go bang, and the lightning ran around the ground uke our fizzers did last Fourth of July, and it spoiled all the growing things. " Strawberries ? " queried Toddie. " Yes." " An' dear little panzhies ? " "Yes." I* Poo' old Pharo' ! " sighed Toddie. « Gwon." " Then Pharaoh's friends began to tell him he was bein a goose, thinkin' he could be stronger than the Lord, an Pharaoh kind o'thought so himself. So he told Moses that the men-folks of the Izzyrelites mi^ht ^-n awn.r ie they wanted to, but nobody else." a" OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 39 if . "Mean old fing ! " said Toddie. "Who did he fink was gom to cook fings an' go to school? " "I dunno," said Budge ; but I guess he had a chance to think about it, for the Lord made whole crowds of locusts come. Them's grasshoppers, you know, an' they ate up everything in all the gardens, an' the folks got half crazy about it." " Thenl guesh they didn't tell their little boyish that they mushn t kill grasshoppers, like mamma doesh. Wish 1 d have been there ! What did he do then 1 " ;' Oh, he was a selfish old pig, just like he was before," said Budge; " so the Lord said, 'Moses, just hold vour hand up to the sky a minute.' An' Moses did it, 'and tlien It got darker in Egypt than it is in our coal bin. folks couldn't see anything anywhere, and wherever they was when it growed dark, they had to stay for tiree whole days and nights." " Gwacious !" said Toddie. "Wouldn't it be drefful if Moses was to go an' hold his hand up in the sky while we're a-sittin' in thezhe chairzh ! Mebbe he will ; let's holler for Aunt Alice ! " "Oh, he can't do it now;' said Budge, " 'cause he's dead. Besides that, we ain't keepin' any Izzyrelites from dom what they want to. Old Pharaoh got awful fright- ened then, an' told Moses he might take all the people away, but they mustn't take their things with 'em— the selfish old fellow ! But Moses knew how hard the poor Izzyrelites had to work for the few things they had, so he said they wouldn't go unless they could carry every- thing they owned. An' that made Pharaoh mad, an' he said, ' Get out ! If I catch you here again I'll kill you ! ' " :'"" '^'""> ^"" ^ ijiuiiuiv yourseii ; you won t see me again unless you want me.' " " Shouldn't think he would," said Toddie. " Nobody 40 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN, gom to vizhit kings zust to have their heads cutted off Even our shickens knows enough not to come to Mnf^ ys^iV^ then the Lord told Moses sompfh,n''fU„* ^ ,. J«st have ™ade him feel «»M Kl | hi that "ex mghterery biggest boy in every family was soiVt^h. wants to io t r " ?,"f '- •"" ■"" 'f "*<«'« what he rt kilt mrTtdT'- '' *"" "»"•<' y™ '" 'f "" ^g-'l ''ani'tbt*™ f" "'•"'■ """-Wes,- said Toddio, promptly the fS-' w tr,!,]^'" Mrs *!;""' ■'- -' ""- tow Me lolRs, an he told em all to kill a little Iamb an' rtin the r fingers in the blood, an' make a cr«is onTheir door*^ kill the biggest boy in their houses An' that nieht rtmvn worTe'thari: •r^'^T^'^^y "'"'« "p »' crrefi^r: worse than yon did when you fell downstairs the other wh^;; wiEf"!' "•' ?'«^«^' <*'«''• You couldn't go a " '•S'couS;'L^rBudo:"'^ *■""' ' " ^^"^^ ^'•■^''"''- a.,' hll u"f "^''u «''«•• Moses an' his brother, in a hurrv an he told 'em that he'd been a bad kine— in,f », if ,L^' didn't know that already. An' he told 'em to tile IX the .favrehtes, an' all their things, an' go ri^ht stralh/ begged the iVr^U^; ^'''^^^ ^'"r^^" AH ■ OTHER PEOPLE\^ HILDREN. 41 i' what tlit^ u j,r uaitiii' for. They was so dad to iret rid of ^m that they lent 'em anything they wfnted '' ^ *' Pies an' cakes ? " asked Toddie. "No!" said Budge, contemptuously. "You don't s'pose folks that's goin' off travellin' for forty years is gom to think about eatin' first thing, do you ?^ ThJv borrowed clothes, a..' money, an' everything else thev sTaned^''^' ^"'^^f^^^^Egyptiansat.>^poor. An' off they II Did they have a 'scursion train ? " asked Toddie. 'No, said Budge. - AH the excursion trains in the world couldn't have held such lots of people. Thev rode on camels and donkeys, but lots of 'em walked " " I clon t think tlmt was a hit of fun," said Toddie. Yoxx would have," said Budge, " if you'd always had to work like everything. Don't yon 'member how once when mamma made you work, an' carry away all tlie blocks you brought up on the piazza from the new build- in You walked way off to the village to get rid of it." K J«7^«'" drawled Toddie, " but 1 knew^l'd be rided the d^r'" ^ ^^ '''"''' ^"^ ^''''^ *'''' '"^- ^^'"^ ^^^^ ^'^ u A T*!7/t^'''''^*^*V'' ^'■^''^^ *^ ^ "^^^ <^o""try that the Lord had told Moses about, an' they got along till thev came to a pretty big ocean where there wasn't any ferry:boats-I don t see what Moses took 'em to sucli a place as that for, unless the Lord wanted to show em' that no ferry-boats couldn t get the best of liim-when all of a sudden they saw an awful lot of dust bein' kicked up behind 'em, au' somebody said that Pharaoh was a comin' " « DidT^'^nn*!;!^ a""'"^ '^^" '"?"^^ ^^ '^'^'" ^^'"^ Toddie. /u^'ji u^'^f "*^V? ^^ ^i^^' ""^^ ^" ^"^^'^ ^"s hanafitch (handkerchief) good-by at 'em 1 " " No," said Budge. " He knew there wasn't any boats ii OTHER PEOPLE^s CHtLDREN. ne^ST'ddif' "^ ^'"^' ''''' ^^'^ -^"^^ ^"^ him JL ^'"^T. h' ^'"^'r f ^^^ ^"^g«- " B»* <^hen you see he was awful lazy, an' didn't like to work for himLif--papa carw^V,''^''\'^'' ^r^y do? "asked Toddie. -They can t catch any Izzyrehtes, can they ? " iJi^""" Tu^ ^"i"^^^' " ^"^ ^h*^y ^*» d« ^hatthe Izzyrel- Well whpn f^S Jfr*^'^ H"'^^^ ^'^^^ P«^Pl«'« «»on«y. S'v .^^® *''^^' '^"^ **^^*^ '^^«* Pharaoh a-comin', they began to grunt, an' pitch into poor Moses, an' told him he ought to be ashamed of hisself to bring 'em away off there to be killed, when they might have died in Egypt without havin'to walk so far. But Moses said^ Then tCT T^^'- ^' U"" ^ ^^' ^^^d'« ^^^' this job.' Doint t±l'^''* \ ^"^"^ >^' ^^' "P y«"r cane an' point across the water with it!' An' the minute that Moses done that the water of that ocean went way up on in the bath-tub sometimes when we're splashin' vou fW n'"* ^^A^""? Z^ ^ P^^^h "g*^* *hr«"gh the bottom of that ocean. An the people just skooted right along it ? " " 'oi,,«P f Tv,^^ ^•^'^ ^^T '''^^^■'' ^y'^ ^ " asked Toddie. Cause if they didn't there must have been lots of little mudd'^" ^h^" they got across for gettin' their shoes " I don't know about that," said Budge, after a slight tha? 'Butth ''"/. " li""^^ '"^^"^her fo'ask papaaS !o± I'i^- ''.^'" ^hey all got over they began to grumble ^^ome uxuie, lor along came fharoah's arniy right after I OTHER PEOPLE'S CfflLDREm 43 him " / fink they was a lot of good-for-nothing cry-babies," said Toddie. " Hah ! " grunted Budge. " I guess you'd have yowled if you'd have been trudgin' along through the mud ever so long, an* then seen some soldiers an' chariots an' spears an' bows an' iirrows comin* to kill you. But the Lord knew just how to manage — He always did. Fapa says He always comes in when you think He can't. He said to ]\'!o8es, * Just lift up your cane an' point it across the ocean again, will you 1 ' an' Mrses done it, an' down came that big fence of water on botl sides kerswosh I An* it drownded old Pharaoh an' the whole ja:ood-for-nothinor lot." "Then did the Izzyrelites go to cry in' some more?" asked Toddie. " Not ranch ! " said Budge " They all got together and had a big sing." "/know what they sung," said Toddie. "They all sung ' TurnbackPharo'sarmyhallelujah.' " "No, they didn't," said Budge. "They sung that splendid thing mamma sings sometimes, * Sound the — loud tim — brel o'er— Egypt's — Egypt's dark * " Budge had with great difficulty repeated the line of the glorious old anthem, and he finally broke down and burst out crying. " What's you cryin' about ? " asked Toddie. " Is you playin' you's an Izzyrelite ? " " No," said Budge ; " but whenever I think about that song, something comes up in my throat and makes me cry." • The door of the room flew open, there was a rustle and a hurried tread, and Mrs. Burton, her own face full of tears, snatched Budge to her breast, and kissed him re> peatedly, while Toddie remarked : 44 OTHER PEOPLE'S CRILDBBJir. , J When fing, come up i„ ^^ u.roat I j„st>„/W and^'id" "'"" '"'"'"'"^'' '■^^ "^P'^-'-' to ">e parjor floor, ." Now little boys, it's nearly lunch tim» .„J t going to have you nicely washed Td dressed s" , J f", any one comes in you will look like littKlemen - askli'fi^u'di: '" "•' P""'""*" -^ «■- .orT^i^Tad" " y-i l'i^^^l\ir^l}:^^}y ■■ " ' - going to trust ' T)iat isn't what bothers me " sairl R.,^«« » i ^ 1 1 a.i^^^^tik^'^rn" li » - '° ^ -' ;2. and ./didn't l^^^ll &t^^:%:tl ho^vVaidV^'Bttr'^''- "'"" ^-«H-^ seta " An sit in a chair in the cornpr nf fK« ^ • room ? " asked Budge. *^ '^^ up-stairs " I hardly think that it will be necessarv ^h\. r »' answered the lady necessary this time," B:^:^^^^''^'^' « ">it,." said Todiirwith^'toThety^ss "" '"""'''' •^"^^'''" -'' tKef^.f "'""" ^ *° ""^ *"'='=«»« of his wife's !„4™!f 1,8^™°"™*. .»jji • V' corner and whispering earnestlv to' him ^T^ '"'? * purity of Budge's exp^ssion 7co„nra„ee td'Z"'te? nti:te t^j^ tn^ £i V" srmpTy angeUc^f' ^"^ *'"* '''""'''"8 *'"' ^»^^<^^om "Will be back pretty son, Aunt Alice." rZoT h^hT"'' "P«" ^^«ry dignified lady of the old fn?R T* ' ^- ■^'^^*^^" motioned them violently awiv lor Budges trowsers anrl Tr^AA^.^ "i^itsuny away, fchp.. ^.u .Za^^"^^ Jl'^f. Z^^^'*^ « apron were as dirty as eyer f^^^'" "l-Af^''f''' ''"^ ^*^ ^^^ visitor, how- ever, for she was hidden by on, o: the wings which he d OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 47 ^ the folding-doors, so both tramped up to their aunt, while Budge exclaimed : "Folks don't go to heaven the second day, anyhow, for we just dug up the bird to see, an' he was there just the same." " And there wazh lots of little ants there wiv him," said Toddie. " Is that 'cause they want to go to hebben, too, and wantsh somebody wiz wings to help 'em up ] " " Budge ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, in chilling tones, •* how did all this dirt come on your clothes ?" " Why, you see," said the boy, edging up confidentially to his aunt, and resting his elbows on her knee as he looked up into her face, " I couldn't bear to put the dear little birdie in the ground again without saying another little prayer. And I forgot to brus,ii my knees off." " Toddie," said Mrs. Burton, *' ijou couldn't have knelt down with your stomach and breast. How did you get your nice white apron so dirty ? " Toddie looked at the apron andthenat hisaunt — looked at a picture or two, and then at the piano — followed the cornice line with his e\ c, seemed suddenly to find what he was looking for, and replied : " Do you fink that apron's dyty ? Well, / don't. Tell you whatsh the matter wif it— I fink the white's dropped off." " Go into the kitchen," commanded Mrs. Burton, and both boys departed with heavy pouts where pretty lips should have been. Half an hour later their uncle, who had come home early with the laudable desire of meeting some of his wife's lady acquaintances, found his nephew Toddie upon the scaffolding of an unfinished residence, iiiiii v.iiy ucivveen ms own lesiaence and the railway sta- tion. Remembering the story, dear to all makers of school reading-books, of the boy whose sailor father saw «j' 48 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. •• I can't," screamed Tuildie. ho young man chattered for a moment ,rlf ■"• '^'"^ lect never even diiniv hint«,4 „ ,"■"""' "r 'w" m a Uia- of monkeys. ' "' "'"'"P' '•^ » oonvention dofn ofe"boy Tf t^f f''"'t ""^ ''"''1-. "rought ward, the boys haWm" s^LI,,, "'" ^^'"^ "endedhome- clothes not already "LueThvlr "T P"''""" "^ ""eir Ws callers r.^l^t X^' ^^^^^o.. ofMr. Bur- tioSl5:buraTave''l't'rtali^"t '"t""""^ ~- they were preXiSte re, ,i,^ !. !i ?' *""■ "«?'"'»'« '^ if the lite,., iLgrUy'::^ trS'^l^tesTr Thr"''' '"^ which these youue men li»,l l,„i „ ^he exercise their emulation of the arotoecu „f h"™?''"'''' ,'° '*''« '» ing on the plain of Shi2 ™ve .tn^*^ ■"complete build- and silenced tongues but after 1,1 «='"''' "•".W'tites .Its time lor TrtW f*^ H'^ i..-- . • . AUce : don't you k^w 1 " "" J"""*""""" "ow, Aunt pro"to Budgf ' "' '•"'• '"'^'»»'^. ""J nodded ap- OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 49 "Come, Tod," said Budge, "you must tell your awful sad story now, an' feel bad." "Guesh I'll tell 'bout Peter Gray," said Toddie ; " Thatsh awful sad," " Who was Peter Gray ? " asked Mrs. Burton. " He's a dzentloman that a dyty little boy in the neksht street to us sings 'bout," said Toddie, " only I don't sing 'bout him— I only tellsh it— it's dzust assadthat-a-way." " Go on," said Budge. " Once was a man," said Toddie, with great solemnity and bated breath, " an' his name was Peter Gray. An' he loved a lady. An' he says to her papa, ' I wantsh to marry your little gyle (girl).' An what you fink that papa said 1 He said no I " (this with tremendous em- phasis.) " That izhn't as hard as he said it, eiver, but it's azh hard as I can say it. Its puffikly dzedful when Jimmy sings it. An' Peter Gray felt awful bad then, an' he went Wesht, to buy the shkinzh that comes off of animals an' tings, though how that ma^e him feel nicer Jimmy don't sing 'bout. An' bad Injuns caught him an' pulled his hair off, djust like ladies pull theirsh off some- timezh. An' when that lady heard 'bout it, it m:^de her feel so bad that she went to bed an' died, Thatsh all. Uncle Harry ain't you got to be punished for somefin,' so you can tell ush a story i " " It's time little boys were in bed now," said Mrs. Burton, arising, and taking Toddie in her arms. " Oh dear ! " said Budge. " I wishes I was a little boy in China, an' was just gettin' up." "So does I," said Toddie; "'cause then you would have a tay-al on your head, an' I could pull it i " xiie uoys retired, and Mrs. Burton broke her reticence so far as to tell her husband the story she had heard in the morning, and to insist that he was to arise early 6» OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. enough in the morning to unearth the buried bird and throw It away. ''It's perfectly dreadful," said she, ''that those chil- dren should be encouraged in making trifling applications ot holy truths, and I am determined as far as possible to prevent the effects by removing the causes." ' And her husband put on a most enraging smile, and shook his head profoundly. \ « CHAPTEE III. THE sun of the next morning arose at the outrageous- V T*^ ly unfashionable hour that he affects in June • but Mrs Burton was up before him. Her husband had attended a town meeting the night before, and the fore- lathers of the hamlet had been so voluble that Mr ^urton had not returned home until nearly midnight' He needed rest, and his wife determined that he should sleep as long as possible ; but there were things dearer to her than even the comfort of her husband, and among these were the traditions she had received concerning things mystical and holy. She had an intuition that her nephews would promptly test the central hope of the Christian world by examining the grave of the bird they had interred two days before, and she dreaded to listen to the literal conversation and comments that would sure- ly loUow. Had the bu-d been a human being, the remarks -_ _ ._-i^„ scrtivvvi iiuuic uiciiao vvouiu navo seemed anything but materialistic to Mrs. Burton ; but it was <« t OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 51 ear little girl sister," said Toddie, by way o| correction. > j ""j^ «* <* t'i?^' "^"'^^ f ^^^."^ '^^^^^' f g"^ss," said Mrs. Burton. .^.\ r.r" ""^^ ^^^""^ y^"^ mamma too much to make either of them any trouble, and both of them are quite ^i^IfTdo^n't you? '''" ^"' '''" ^^"^' *^^" -^^^ ^^ >^'«"^- 54 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. ^ " Certainly," said Budge. « That's why I want to see em so awful much. .u"-^^"^,^^'^ ^'""^"^ "^^^" ^^^ ^i^^'e sishterzh not to have their budders to play wif," said Toddle "Well," said Mrs. Burton, I will think about it, and It 1 leel sure that you will both be very good, we will eo there to-day. . o » ^ T'li'*^!^ ""^ •' ' «^i^^^"dge» " ^e'll be our very goodest. I II tell you what, ^od ; we'll have a Sunday-school right after breakbux—^Aa<7^ be good." ^ « \^^^^T «2?^^^^ing gooder than that," said Toddie. \\ ell play Daniel »in the lions' den, and you be the king an take me out. That's a good deal gooder thar dzust playm Sunday-school ; 'caush takin' folks away from awful bitey lions is a gooder fing than dzust singin' an praym,' like they do in Sundav-school." "Another frightful fit of heterodoxy to be overcome, my dear, observed Mr. Burton. « That dreadful child IS committed to the doctrine of the superior efficacy o/ works over faith." ^ •jII^^^^^®" ^^™ ^^® ®*®^y of I^aniel correctly, then " said Mrs. Burton, "and error will be sure to flv from the appearance of truth." Mr. Burton took his departure for the day, and while l\7- ^^^^^^ ^'^''^^^f ^" househqld management, the children discussed the etiquette of tlie promised visit. Tell you what. Tod," said Budge, " we ought to take her presents, anyhow. That was one of the lo valy things about Jesus being a little baby once. You know those shepherds came an' brought him lots of presents." " What letsh take her ? " asked Toddie. "Well.'' said Rndcft « f.be ot^^nheH" c- — ^-J and things that smelled sweet, so I guess that's what we ou^ht to do, ' " ' ' " OTHER PEOPLtl'S CHILDREN. 55 " Aw wight," said Toddie, " 'cept houzh we i^oin' to get 'em 1" ^ " We can go into the house very softly when we get home, you know," said Budge, " an' shake some pennies out of our sa-dngs-bank ; them'U do for the money. Then for things that smell sweet we can g^t flowers out of the garden." " That'll be dzust a-giving her fings that's at hoine aU ready. I fink 'twould be nicer to carry her somefing from here, just as if we was comin' from where we took care of the sheep." " Tell you what," said Budge, " let's tease Aunt Alice fcr pennies. We ought to have thought about it before Uncle Harry went away." " Oh, yes ! " said Toddie, " an' there's a bottle of smelly ^tuff" in Aunt Alice's room ; we'll get some of that Shall we ask her for it, or dzust make b'lieve it's ours?" " Let's be honest 'bout it," said Budge. " It's wicked to hook things." " 'Twouldn't be hookin' if we took it for that lovaly little sister baby, would it ?" asked Toddie. " 'Sides, I • want to s'prise Aunt Alice an' everybody wif the lots of presentsh I makesh to the dear little fing." " Oh ! ril tell you what," said Budge, forgetting the presents entirely in his rapture over a new idea. " You know how bright the point of the new liehtning-rod on our house is? Well, we'll make b'lieve that's the star in the East, an' it's showin' us where to come to find the baby." "Oh, yes! exclaimed Toddie. "An' maybe Aunt Alice'U carry us on her back, and then we'll make b'lieve V. e're ndin' camels, like the shepherds in the picture we liad Christmas, an' tore up to make menageries of." The appearance of a large grasshopper directly in front tl 66 OTHER PEOPLE'S rniLDREN. of the boys ended the conversation temporarily, for both started in chase of it, with the usual unsuccessful result Half an hour later both boys straggled into the house panting and dusty, and flung themselves upon the floor' when their aunt, with that weakness peculiar to the woman who is not also a mother, asked them where they had been, why they were out of breath, how they came by so much dust on their clothes, and why they were so cross. Budge replied, with a heavy sigh : "Big folks don't know much about little folkses troubles." "Bad old hopjtergrass, just kept a-goin' whereN er he wanted to, an' never comed under my hat," complained loddie. , . " ^rhaps he knew it would not be best for you to have him, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton. « What would you have done with him if you had succeeded in catching him ? " " To have tookted his hind hoppers off," said Toddie promptly. ' "Why, how dreadful!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton. What would you have done that for ? " "So's he'd fly," said Toddie. " The idea of anybody wif wmg,, gom' awoundon their hoppers— ho w'd you like It if /had wings, an' only trotted and jumped instead of flied ?" ^ " My dear little boy," said Mrs. Burton, taking her nephew into her lap, " you must know that it's very wrong to hurt animals in that way. They are just as the Lord made them, and just as he wants them to be." " ^// animals?" asked Toddie. " Certainly," answered Mrs. Burton. ^ hen what ior doesh you catch pitty little mices in traps and kill 'em ? " asked Toddie, with widely opening f OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 57 It ': ) Mrs. Burton hastened to give the conversation a new direction. " Because they're very troublesome," said she. " And even troublesome people have to be punished when they meddle with other people's things." " We know that, I guess," interposed Budge, with a sigh. "But," said Mrs. Burton, hurrying forward t(5' her point, "the animals have nerves and flesh and blood and bones, just like little boys do, and are just the way the Lord made them." " I'll look for the hoppergrass's blood next time I pull one's legsh off"," said Toddie. " Don't," said Mrs. Burton ; " you must believe what aunty tells you, and you mustn't trouble the poor things at all. Why, Toddie, there are real smart men, real good men, that everybody respects, that have spent their whole lives in study with bits of insects, like grasshop- pers and flies and bees " " An' never get stung ? " asked Toddie. " How did they do it ? " " They don't care if they are stung," said Mrs. Burton — " they are so deeply interested in learning how animals are made. They study all kinds of animals, and try to find out why they are different from people ; and they find out that some wee things, like grasshoppers, are more wonderful than any person that ever lived ! " " I should think so," said Budge. " If / could hop like a grasshopper, I could jump faster than any boy in the Kindergarten, an' if I could sting like a hornet, I could wallop any boy in town." " Does they adzamine hid animals, too ] " asked Toddie. "Yes," said Mrs. Burton. "One of them, a Mr. Afarsh, has been away out West among the dreadful ■"BS 58 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. I Indians, just to find out what horses were like a good many years ago." "If /find out all 'bout horsesh," said Toddie, "will everybody like we / " " Very likely," said Mrs. Burton. "Then I'm going to," said Toddie, sliding out of his aunt's lap. " Never mind about it now, dear," said Mrs. Burton. " We are going to mamma and baby now. Go and dress yourselves neatly, boys." Both children started, and Mrs. Burton, who was al- ready prepared for her trip, opened a novel, first giving herself credit for having turned at least one perverted faculty of Toddie's into its heaven-ordained channel. " Another triumph to report to my husband," said she, with a fine air exultation, as she opened her novel. " And yet," she continued, absent-mindedly, laying the book down again, " I believe I found no occasion on which to report yesterday's victories ! " The boys were slow to appear ; but when, finally they came down stairs, they presented so creditable an appear- ance as to call for a special compliment from their aunt. On their way to their mamma's house they were very bright, but seemed preoccupied, and they sought frequent occasions to whisper to each other. Arrived at home, thair impatience knew no restraint ; and when the nurse appeared with a wee bundle, topped with a litle face and lying on a big pillow, both boys pounced upon it at once, Budge trying to crowd several pennies into the baby's rose-leaves of hands, while Toddie held to its nose a bottle labelled " Liquid Bluinj< ; " at the same time the baby sneezed alarmingly, and a strong odour of camphor pervaded the room. M Where can that camphor be ? " asked the nurse : 1 i OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 59 1 i "There is nothing that Mra. Lawrence hates so in tenselv ! ' The baby stopped sneezing and began a pitiful wail, while Toddie hastened to pick up the bluing-bottle ; then the nurse saw that upon the baby's hitherto immacu- late wraps there was a lar^e stain of a light-blue tint, and emitting a strong odour of camphor ; meanwhile Toddie had dragged upon his aunt's sacque, held his precious bottle up his aunt's nose, and exclaimed : «* Izhn't that too baddy ! Baby gropped it, and spilled mosht every bit of it on her c'ozhes an' on the floor ! " " Where did you get that camphor, Toddie ? " asked Mrs. Burton, " and what did you bring it here for 1 " " TizhnH campiffer," said Toddie ; " it's pyfurae ; I got it out of a big bottle on your bureau, where you makes your hankafusses (handkerchiefs) smell sweet at. Budgie an' me done dzurst what them sheepmen did when they came to Betlehem to see the dear little Jesus-baby— we brought our baby money an' fings that smelled sweet." Mrs. Burton kissed Toddie, and so did the nurse ; then the nurse fell on :he floor, and displayed the baby's face, and then the face was shadowed from the light, and baby opened two little eyes and regarded her brothers with a stare of queenly gravity and gentleness, and the adora- tion expressed by the faces of the two boys was such as no old master ever put into the faces in an " Adoration of the Magi,'' and above them bent a face more mature but none the less suffused with tender awe. The silence seemed too holy and delightful tq be broken, but Toddie finally looked up inquiringly into his aunt's face and " Aunt Alice, why don't there be a lovely sun around her head like there is in pictures of dear little Jesu^, babies ? '' ' 60 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN, eJhlne^c^''\L "'^"^^ ^"^*" ^S*^*^' ^^^ ^^^ nurse offered eacnone of the pa ity a five-minute interview with the rth'rface^"hie?r 'T^^' '^'^ '"^^ silk-XUn i^fcurfouslv l^li''' "'P^'""' '"."['^ "«^ »^*^^P ««rutiniz- vo^uld rvp^; ^^"^gt?*"^« «»t ^ith the remark that he i;^^^uTT:ddr:^^^^^^^^^ '-^"^^ ^^- -^^^ ^^ ^olJ^ ^ ^*^. * ^Jf^^f "®^ ^*^y I wouldn't stay in bed in a^oundT^' '" '^^ ^^"^- ^ ^-«^ S^^ up an' dansS "Aunt Alice," asked Budge, on the way back to his uncle's residence, " now there's somebod/ else at our str's'irv''^^^^^ *^^^^^ wt; wiirba'b; sister 8 birthday come— how many days ? " Three hundred and sixty-two," said Mrs. Burton. ' Goodness ! exclaimed Budge. " And how ion" 'fore Christmas '11 come again?" ° i; Nearly two hundred days," said the lady. Well, I think I will die if somebody don't have a birthday pretty soon, so I can give 'em presents' said "Why you dear, generous little fellow," said Mrs tc:?mor^ow.''''"^ '' ^"^ ^^°^' "^^ ^*^^^«V wiU corlTe « Oh— h— h--.h !" exclaimed Budge. « Say, Toddie— " th1± """"T^^:- '^ '^' conversation was cUucted in whispers, and with countenances of extreme imp,)rtance Ihe hoys even took a different road for home, Budge ex plajmng to his aunt that they had a big secret to talk Mrs. Burton stopped en rmite to ask a neighbourly 4o«"v;r«" T ' ""^,^"^^cu at nome somewhat later than her nephews, and saw a horse and waggon at the door, She soon and rightly imagined that these belonged \ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 61 i to the grocer, and she divined that the driver thereof was interviewing the Burton servants. But what a certain white mass on the ground under the horse could consist of Mrs. Burton was at a loss to conjecture, and she quickened her pace only to find the white substance aforesaid resolve itself into the neatly clotb^d body of her nephew, Toddie, who was lying on h.s ba ;k in the dirt, and contemplating the noble aniLnal'i? cht t with serene curiosity. There are momeuts in life when digiiuy urJtiuds in spite of itself, and grace of deportment becomes a thing to be loathed. Such a moment Mrs. Burton endured, as, dropping her parasol, she cautiously but firmly seized Toddie and snatched him from his dangerous position. «' Go into the house, this instant, you dirty boy ! " ex- claimed Mrs. Burton, with an imperious stamp of her foot. The fear in Toddie's countenance gave place to expos- tulation, as he exclaimed : " I was only dzust " " Go into the house this instant ! " repeated Mrs. Burton. *'.Ah— h— h— h I " said Toddie, beginning to cry, and rolling out his under lip as freely as if there were yards of it yet to come. " I was only studyin' how the horsie was made togewer, so's everybody'd espec' an' love me. Can't go to where them Injins is, an' I fought a gusha- way's (grocery) man's horsie would be dzust as good. Ah— h— h ! " ^ " There was ho necessity for your lying on tiie ground, in your clean pique dress, to do it," said Mrs. Burton. •* Ah h h I" oQifl Tfsflfii" ""...jj, uT ~i..,j:_j _ii i.u - .. ,8 . .jJiiU iUUUiu again. i BtUUiCa tiril LIIC yest of him fyst, an' I couldn't hold him up so as to look under him. I tried to, an' he looked at me dzeadful crosh, an' so I didn't" ■i 62 OTffHE PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. ''Go right into the house and have another dress put on, said Mrs. Burton. - You know very well that noth- ing excuses little boys for dirtying their clothes when we^^w"} h^ P '^: 7^'" >^^"" ^""'^^ ^^'^y ««™«« home, we shall have to devise some way of punishing you so that ym will remember to take better care of yo^ir cloth- mg in the future." hnrl^Wh~^~^~ • ih?P®,^^od won't make any more iiorsesh, then, nor any little boys to be told to find out about em, then to be punnissed dzust for getting their ZtV.u''^^' ^^^^•" ''''^"^'^ Toddie, disappearing screams '''*''^^^' and filling the house with angry «f .nf * ^"'^''" ^H^^fd for a moment upon the piazza ^^Mf'^'Ti^'^'^T^"'?^. ^"^ ^"^^""^^y «"*^»red aspaim of T^'u.u^ ^^!'^^*^ "'^^^ "P«" her mind the idea that th 'J'^*- .u P<^««\h^«^' according to a code less erratic than that ot the well-ordered household, that the soiling of garments was not the sin of all sins, and that Toddie had really been affected by her information about the noble origin and nature of the animal physique. Certainly no- tning but a sincere passion for investigation could have led loddie between the feet of a horse, and a person so absorbed in scientific pursuits might possibly be excused tor being regardless of personal appearance. But, no • clean clothing ranked next to clean hearts in the Mayton tami y, and such acquirements as Mrs. Burtoa possessed she determined to lovingly transmit to her nephews, so far as was m her power. But Toddie seemed really in earnest in his indignation, and she respected mistaken impressions which were honestly made, so she determined to try to console the weeuine cl.fld Gmpa ipf^ h'" — m she found her nephew lying on his back, "kickingVscream' ing, and otherwise giving vent to his rage. 1 .i OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 63 no Hi 1 i " Toddie," said Mrs. Burton, " it is too bad that you should have so much trouble just after you have been to see your mamma and little sister." " I know it ! " screamed Toddie, " an' you can dzust go down stairsh again if that's all you came to tell me." " But, Toddie, dear," said Mrs. Burton, kneeling and smoothing the hot forehead of her nephew, "aunty wants, to see you feeling comfortable again." " Then put me back under the horsie again, so folksh'lli 'espec' me," sobbed Toddie. " You've learned enough about the horse for to-day,"' said Mrs. Burton. "I'll ask your papa to teach you. more when you go back home. Poor little boy, how hot your cheeks are I Aunt Alice wishes she could see you looking happy again." Toddie stopped crying for a moment, looked at his aunt intently, sat up, put on an air of considerable importance, and finally said : " Did Lord seiid you upstarish to tell me you was sorry for what you done to me ?" asked Toddie. " Then I forgives you, only don't do that baddy way any more. If you want to put a clean dress on me, you can." " Aunt Alice," said Budge, who had rambled into the room, " you told Uncle Harry at the breakbi'- table that you was goin' to tell us about Daniel to-day ; don't you think it's about time to do it." " Oh yes," said Toddie, hurrying his head through his clean dress, " an' how the lions yet up the bad men that made the king frow Daniel in the deep dark hole. Gwon." " There was a very good young man once whose name was Daniel," said Mrs. Burton, •* and although the king that his people worshipped, Daniel prayed every day to the same God that we love." 64 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. " He was up in Heaven then, like he is now, wasn't he 1 " said Budge. " Oh yes," answered Mrs. Burton. " Then where was the other people's god ? " " Oh, on shelves and in closets, and all sorts of places," said Mrs. Burton. " They were only bits of wood and stone — idols, in fact." " And wasn't they good ? " asked Budge. " Not at all," said Mrs. Burton. " Well, I don't think that's very nice," said Budge, " for papa sometimes says that / am mamma's idol. Am I sticky or stony 1 " " Certainly not, dear ; he means that your mother cares a great deal for y6u — that is all. And Daniel prayed just as he chose and when he chose, and the people that didn't like him hurried up to the king and said, * Just see, that young man of whom you care so much is pray- ing to the Lord that the Jews believe in.' The king was sorry to hear this, but Daniel wouldn't tell a lie ; he ad- mitted that he prayed just as he wanted to, so the king had to order some men to throw Daniel into the den of lions. He felt very badly about it, though, for Daniel had been always very good and honest, and very good people are hard to find anywhere." " Musht tell mamma that nexsht time she saysh /must be very good," said Toddie. " Gwon." " They threw poor Daniel in among the lions," said Mrs. Burton, "and he must have f 't dreadfully on the way to the den, for he knew that lions are very savage and hungry. Why, one single lion will often eat up a whole man, yet there were a great many lions in the den Daniel was taken to=" " He wouldn't make much of a supper for all of themy poor fellow, would he ? " said Budge. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 65 , "No," said Mrs. Burton, "so he did what sensible people always do when they find themselves in trouble. He prayed. As for the king, I imagine he didn't sleep much that night. People who take the advice of others, and against their own better judgment, generally have to feel uncomfortable about it. At any rate, the king was awake very early in the morning, and hurried off to the den alone, and looked in and shouted, ' Daniel ! the Lord what you believe in, was he strong enough to keep the lions from eating you ? ' And then Daniel answered the king. Think of how happy it must have made the king to hear his voice, and know he was not dead ! The un- kindness of the king had not made Daniel forget to be respectful, so he said, ' Oh, king, I hope you may live for ever.' Then he told the king that he had not been hurt at all, and the king was very glad, and he had Daniel taken out, and then the bad men who had been the cause of Daniel being given to the lions were all thrown into the den themselves, and the lions ate every one of them." " / know why they let Daniel alone an' ate up all the other fellows," said Budge, with a noble air of compre- hension. " I felt sure you would, dear little boy," said Mrs. Burton ; " but you may tell me what you think about it." " Why, you see," said Budge, " Daniel was only one man, and lie would be only a speck apiece for all those lions — just like one single bite of cake to a little boy — when there were plenty of men, so that each lion could have one for himself, they made up their minds it was Somehow this reply caused Mrs. Burton to forget to enforce the great moral application of the story of Daniel, 6G OTBSii PEOPLES CHILDREN. and she found it convenient to make a sudden ^our of inspection m the kitchen. She was growing dclent^^^^^^ conscious thai, instead of instructing and co^UrX^ftle children, she had thus far done little\ut Z ly mL^ for their active minds and bo.lip« fo c.r^J-^ material extremely distasteful to iL Zl''Zf:^\CZ:i lier mind wavering between two extremes otThftli" of government-it seemed to l,er tlm " fe 1st 1 tt/'r very severe, or must allow the childre to ,^,„t»ll velo,. their ov-n faculties within ,_h k bou '' t J oy nature, as severe rulers of children alwavs «.„ H|. .lid nothing for a li'.w 'n-ur , a"d s c"e de.^ [he, i" "'' entirely losing sight of her MephewsZi^ ui d, le m./i'l nearly sunset. Tl,™, howevei- drawn I v ,t ,, which is strongest in the mos't immature ^ITT boys returned for something to eat Tl„,n„i, . ', "'" could be no doubt about their co„l,,t„ le t*^ r*"'',' r'' were very dirty, and so were tJ,™ Ices ,'„ f, ' I'T latter shone that indefinable s.,metl fng U, is 1 ' 'n'v" read indication of the consciousness of'rcct ,,de a,,d ^f .sfaclion with the results of right-doing. Th.v T^Ti |i ,: U II ■,. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 67 very comrnunicative, even under considerable question mg and Mr. Burton finally said, as one in a soUbquy I wonder what it was ? " o^iuoquy . Burto?""^ "*'' ^'" ^^^^'"^ '^^"^' ^'•''y^'^ ^^J^ed Mrs. exDerimenlTl^^'rK^''"'° ^^'' original and expensive ^household '" '"" "^ '' '""' "'^^^^^ ^heLadof " None whatever," said Mrs. Burton, with an energy a most s art mg. M often wonder how men can Se so b ind. Look at their dear, pure little foces, dirty tou'h hey are-there IS no more consciousness of wrong theVe than there could be in an angel's face " ^ " Just so, my dear," said Mr. Burton. " If thev were ofcener conscious of misdeeds they would be worsJbTvs but a great deal less troublesome.' Come see uncle bo^y^ don t you want a trot on my knees ? " ' ^ Both children scrambled into their uncle's arms, and Budge began to whisper very earnestly ' ;; Yes 1 suppose so," answered Mrs. Burton, in reply " So am I," said Toddie. " It's something to eat," said Budge " Mine too," said Toddie. "Be careful, Budge," said Mr. Burton. 'You'll let the secret out if you're not careful " "Oh no I won't," said Budge. "I only said 'twas something to eat. But say, Aunt Alice, how"^.^. bananas " / know how white crrapes o-rnwa " eaid T...4^:„ ...:,. curf heaT ^^^'' ^ vigorous, confident shake of his issasa 68 OTHER PEOPLE'S CUiLDREN. "And I know," said Mr. Burton, lifting T >ddy sud- denly from his knee, " that either a certain little boy IS breaking to pieces and spilling badly, or something else is. What's this ? " he continued, noticing a very wet spot on Toddie's apron, just under which his pock< f was. " And " (here he opened Toddie's pocket gingeriy and looked into it) " what is that vile muss in your pocket V Toddie's eyes opened in wonder, and then his coun- tenance fell. " 'TwMh only a littis bunch:" said he, " an' I was going to eat it on the way home, i.nt I foigotlrd it ! " "They're white grapes, my dear," said Mr. Burton. ' The boys have been robbing soLuoady's hothouse lorn has not grapes in his. Whero 'lid you get these boys ? ' J ' "BIv~h— h!" whispered Toddie, impressively. No- body miist ikver tell secrets." " Where did you get those grapes?" demanded Mrs. Burton, hastenm^^ to the examination of the dripping dress. ° Toddie burst into tears. ** I should think you would cry ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, " after stealing people's fruit." ♦•Isn't cryin' 'bout that," sobbed Toddie. " I'ze cryin' 'caush youze a-spoilin* my s'prise for your bifeday ev'ry minute you's a-talkin' ! ' j j " Alice, Alice," said Mr. Burton softly. " Remember that the poor child is not old enough to have learned what stealing means." " Then he shall learn now I " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, ?ill of her righteous sense upon the alert. " What do you suppose would become of you if you were to die to- night % " " Won't die," sobbed Toddie. " If angel comes to kill me like he did the 'Gyptians, I'll hide." ' f 1- y g it d OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 69 ys took them and tiptoed down the stair and into the d. .ving-room. " Gwacious ! " said Toddie, as he placed his plate on the sideboard, " maybe the gwapes an' l-'-^tonanoes has got sour. I gueah we'd better tr)/ 'em, Hke mamma uoas the ^ milk on hot morningsh when the baddy milkman don't come time enough," and Toddie suited the actica to the word by plucking from a cluster the har omest grape in sight. " I /?w^," said he, smacling his ! , w h they is gettin' sour" " lict's see," said Budge. T * i liiii I I OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN, 73 i I " No," said Toddie, plucking another grape with one hand while with the other he endeavoured to cover his gift. " Ize bid enough to do it all myself. Unless," he added, as a happy inspiration struck him, " you'll let me help see if your buttonanoes are sour." " Then you can only have one bite," said Budge. " You mu«L let me taste about six grapes, 'cause 'twould take that many to make one of your bites on a banana." " Aw wight," said Toddie ; and the boys proceeded to exchange duties. Budge taking the precaution to hold the banana himself, so that his brother should not abstract- edly sample a second time, and Toddie doling out the grapes with careful count. " They are a little sour," said Budge, with a wry face. "Perhaps some other bunch is better. I think we'd better try ea; h one, don't you, Toddie ? " "And eac one (if the buttonanoes, too," suggested To n«.j.on .iTrm in': an l>u.jgi(,', an we dzust tasted om to see it they'd got sour in the night." " Where did the cards come from ? " asked Airs. Bur- 1 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 11 \ 1 "Out of the basket in the parlour," said Budge ; " but the back is the nice part of 'em." Mrs. Burton's thoughtful expression and her husband's frown disappeared together, as they seated themselves at the table. Both boys wriggled vigorously until their aunt raised her plate, and then Budge exclaimed : " A penny for each year you know." " Thirty-one ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, after countin*^ the heap. ** How complimentary ! " ° " What doesh you do for little boys on your bifeday ? "" asked Toddie, after breakfast was served. ** Mamma does. lots of fings. " " Yes," said Budge, she says she thinks people ought to get their own happy by makin' other people happy. An^ mamma knows better than you, you know, 'cause she's been married longest." Although Mrs. Burton admitted the facts, the inference seemed scarcely natural, and she said so. " Well— a— a— a— a— awj/how," said Toddie, " mam- ma always has parties on her bifeday, an' we hazh all the cake we want." " You shall be happy to-day, then," said Mrs. Burton ; " for a few friends will be in to see me this afternoon, and I am going co have a nice little lunch for them, and you shall lunch with us, if you will be very good until then, and keep yourself clean and neat" " Aw wight, '^ said Toddie. " Izhn't it most time now ? ' w c '^*^^'^ ^^^ stomach," said Budge, with some contempt. ' bay, Aunt Alice, I hope you won't forget to have some fruit- cake. That's the kind loe like best." x.n, „ v.^m^ Hume •,x:Xy uuily, narry { awRed Mrs, tJurton, ignoring her nephew's question. " By noon, at furthest," said the gentleman. " I only ««',«naigMtaaMiii 78 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. m^J'be irt£.""™'"^ '^''«'^' ■^"'' «" -.V «-'e- that askS„V ''"" """'"^ '" ^''^'y f- Uncle Harry?" ;; To take Aunt Alwc riding „ld boy," said Mr. Burton Oh ! just listen, Tod ! Won't that be jolly « Unc . Harry s going to take us ridin " ^ ^ ' said Mr'iJrr.^"'"^ '" ''''^ ^"" ^""' ^''-' ^U'lge," anv^ sT' T"'" 'v!* '^'"^K"' "'"" "'«' "■"n't troublous does to us IT ''■'"' '" '"'^ '° y"" bottertha, s le uoes to us. When are we goino- ? " Mr. Burton asked his wiferin German, whotlier tl.o ^TT"'^""'^"^ ^^'"'^"^^ ^^« »«t charmingly a ural a.id Mrs. Burton answered in the same tonguetlfa t wT ' ^el irherXtt't 'T 'T^' "^ ^^^"'^^' and ul^^ ^it It her duty to tone it down in her nephews Mr Burton wished her joy of the attempt, and aE a n m " ber of searching questions about succe s alreX ^S ' until Mrs. Burton was glad to see Toddie coni^out of [ brown study and hear him s th^niSilit^el'r^' "'"^ ''' "^^^' ^« ^->^- «ff -^^ ;; What (Z.6^. the child mean ? " asked his aunt. IJont you know where we went kst year an' von "?t:ttit"SB:;^r^^^-«-- ''Old riverzh bwoke wight in two there," said Toddie 'an a piece of it's way up in the air, an' anuvver piect' izh way down in biff hole, in the shfo-P- " ? - - ^ I want to go widin'.'' ' "" Biitohe.. . /W .-^ wnero "Listen, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton. "We like to OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 79 I take you riding with us at most times, but to-day we pre- fer to go alone. You and Budge will stay at home— we shan't be gone more than two hours." " V\'antsh to go a-widin'," exclaimed Toddie. '• I know you do, dear, but you must wait until some other day," said the lady. "But I wantsh to go," Toddie explained. '* And I don't want you to, so you can't," said Mrs. Burton, in a tone which would reduce any reasonable person to hopelessness. But Toddie, in spite of manifest astonishment, remarked : " Wantsh to go a-widin'." '* Nmv the fight is on," murmured Mr. Burton to him- self. Then he rose hastily from tlie table and said : " 1 think I'll try to catch tlie earlier train, my dear, as I am coming back so soon." Mrs. Burton aroije to bid her husband good-by, and was kissed with more than usual tenderness, and then held at arm's length, while manly eyes looked into her own with an expression which she found untranslatable— for two hours, at least. Mrs. Burton saw her husband fairly on his way, and then .^he returned to the dining-room, led Toddie into the parlor, took him ui)()n her lap, wound her arms tenderly about him, and said : " Now, Toddie dear, listen carefully to what Aunt Alice tells you. There are some reasons why you boys should not go with us to-day, and Aunt Alice means just what she says when she tells you you can't go with us. If you were to ask a hundred times it would not make the slightest bit of difference. You cannot go, and you must stop thinking about it," ioddiu hstened intelligently from bciiinniuff to end. and replied : " But I imntah to go." "And you can't. That ends the matter." tm 80 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. ) " No, it don't," aaid Toddie— " not a single bittie, I waiitsh ' J go badder than ever." " But you are not going." " I wantsh to go ho badly," said I'oddie, beginning to cry. " T suppose you do, and auntie is very sorry for you," said Mrs. Burton, kindly; *' but that does not alter the case. When grown people say ' No ! little boys must understand that they mean it." " But what I wantsh izh to go a widin' wif you," said Toddie. " And what / want is, that you shall stay at home ; so you must," said Mrs. Burton. ''Let us have no more talk about it noWj. Sliouldn't you like to go into the garden and pick some strawberries all for yourself? " " No • I'd like to go v/idin'." *' Toddie," said Mrs. Burton," don't let me hear one more word about riding." "Well, I want to go." " Toddie, I will certainly have to punish you if you say any more on this subject, and that will make me very unhappy. You don't want to make auntie unhappy on her birthday, do yon 1 " *' No ; but I do want to go a-widin'." " Listen, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton, with an imperious stamp of her foot, and a sudden loss of her entire stock of patience. " If you say one more word about that trip, I shall lock you up in the attic chamber, whore you were the day before yesterday, and Budge shall not be with you." Toddie gave vent to a perfect torrent of tears, and screamed : ** A — h — h— h ! I don't want to be locked up, an' I do want to go a-widin' ! " OTHER PEOPLES CHILDREN. 81 Toddie suddenly found himself clasped tightly in his aunt s arms, in which position he kicked, pushed, screamed and roared, during the passage of two flights of stairs. Ihe moment of his final incarceration was marked bv a piercing shriek which escaped from the attic-window causing the dog Jerry to retire precipitately from a pleas! ing lounging-place on the well-curb, and making a pissing farmer to rein up his horses, and maintain a listening po8i ion for the space of five minutes. Meanwhile Mrs Burton descended to the parlor, more flushed, untidy* and angry than any one had ever before seen her. She soon encountered the gaze of her nephew Budge, and it was so full of solemnity, inquiry, and reproach, that Mrs Burton s anger departed in an instant. " How would you like to be carried up-stairs screamia' an put in a lonely room, just 'cause you wanted to go riding ? asked Budge. ^ Mrs. Burton was unable to imagine herself in any such position, but replied : ^ " I should never be so foolish as to keep on wanting what I knew I could not have." "^cinwng " Why ! " exclaimed Budge. " Are grown folks is smart as all that ?" ^ ^^ ^ Mrs. Burton's conscience smote her not over-H.^htlv and she hastened to change the subject, and to devote herselt assiduously to Budge, as if to atone for some in jury which she might have done to his brother An occasional howl which fell from the attic-window in creased her zeal for Budge's comfort. Under each one however, her resolution grew wea'ror, and, finally with a hypocritical excuse to Budge, M v,. 3i.u ton hurried up to j^.euooi oi ioduies prison, anu ca-ji through tlie key- " Toddie ? " ■'em> 82 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. " What ? " said Toddie. " Will you be a good boy, now ? " " Yesh, if you'll take me a-widin'." Mrs. Burton turned abruptly away, and simply flew down the stairs. Budge, who awaited her at the foot, instinctively stood aside, and exclaimed : " My ! I thought you was goin' to tumble ! Why didn't you bring him down ? " " Bring who 'I " asked Mrs. Burton, indignantly. " Oh, / know what you went up-stairs for," said Budge. " Your eyes told me all about it." " You're certainly a rather inconvenient companion," said Mrs. Burton, averting her face, " and I want you to run home and ask how your mamma and baby-sister are. Don't stay long: remember that lunch will be earlier than usual to-day." Away went Budge, and Mrs. Burton devoted herself to thought and self-questioning. Unquestioning obedience had been her own duty since she could remember, yet she was certain that lier will was as strong as Toddie's. If she had been always able to obey, certainly the un- happy little boy in the attic was equally capable— why should he not do it 1 Perhaps, she admitted to herself, she had inlierited a faculty in this direction, and perhaps —yes, certainly, Toddie had done nothing of the sort. How was she to overcome the defect in his disposition ; or was she to do it at ail ? Was it not something with which no one temporarily having a child in charge should interfere 1 As she pondered, an occasional scream from Toddie helped to unbend the severity of her principles, but suddenly her eye rested upon a picture of her hus- band, and she si^p.mp.d tn rop in nno nf fiiQ atrao o ^.■.;....: i expression. All her determination came back in an in- stant with heavy n inforcements, and Budge came back ,) ,. "¥ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 83 I. a few moments later. His bulletins from home, and his stores of experiences en route consumed but a few mo- ments, and then Mrs. Burton proceeded to dress for her ride. To exclude Toddie's screams she closed her door tightly, but Toddle's voice was one with which all timber seemed in sympathy, and it pierced door and window apparently without effort. Gradually, however, it seemed to cease, and with the growing infrequency of his howls and the increasing feebleness of their utterance, Mrs Burton's spirits revived. Dressing leisurely, she ascemled loddies prison to receive his declaration of penitence and to accord a gracious pardon. She knocked softly at the door and said : " Toddie ? " There was no response, so Mrs. Burton knocked and called with more energy than before, but without reply A terrible fear had occurred to her; she had heard of children who screamed themselves to death when an^rry Hastily she opened the door and saw Toddie, tear-stained and dirty, lying on the floor, fast asleep. She stooped over him to be sure that he still breathed, and then the expression on his sweetly parted lips was such that she could not help kissing it. Then she raised the pathetic desolate little figure softly in her arms, and the little head dropped upon her shoulder and nestled close to her neck, and one little arm was clasped tightly around her throat, and a soft voice murmured : " I wasn't to go a-widin'." And just then Mr. Burton entered, and, with a most exasperating aflfectation of ingenuousness and uncertainty asked : •" " Did you conquer his will my dear ? " His wife annihilated him with a look, and led the way to the dining room ; meanwhile, Toddie awoke, straight- 84 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. was ened himself, rubbed his eyes, recognized his uncle, and exclaimed : " Uncle Harry, does you know where we's goin' this afternoon ? We's goin' a-widin'." And Mr. Burton hid in his napkin half of his face that IS below his eyes, and his wife wished that his eyes might have been hidden, too, for never in her life had she been so averse to having her own eyes looked into. The extreme saintliness of both boys during the after- noon's ride took the sting out of Mrs. Burton's defeat. They gabbled to each other about flowers and leaves and birds, and they assumed ownership of the few summer clouds that were visible, and made sundry exchanges of them with each. When the dog Jerry, who had surrep- titiously followed the carriage and grown weary, was taken in by his master, they even allowed him to lie at their feet without kicking, pinching his ears, or pulling his tail. As for Mr. Burton, no right-minded husband could wilfully torment his wife upon her birthday, so she soon forgot the humiliation of the morning, and came home with superb spirits and matchless complexion for the little party. Her guests soon began to arrive, and after the company was assembled, Mrs. Burton's chambermaid ushered in Budge and loddie, each in spotless attire, and the dog Jerry ushered himself in, and Toddie saw him and made hjiste to interview him, and the two got inex- tricably mixed about the legs of a M^ht jardiniere, and it came down with a crash, and then the two were sent into disgrace, which suited them exactly, although there was a difference between them as to whether the dog Jerry should seek and enjoy the seclusion upon which his heart was evidently intent. ~ Then Budge retired with a face full of fatherly solici- OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 85 tude^ and Mrs. Burton was enabled to devote herself to the triends to whora she had not previously been able to address a single consecutive sentence. Mrs. Burton occasionally suggested to her husband that It might be well to see where the boys were and what they were doing but that gentleman had seldom before found himself the only man among a dozen comely and intelligent ladies, and he was too conscious of the variety of such experiences to trouble himself about a couple of people who had unlimited ability to keep them- selves out of trouble ; so the boys were undisturbed for the space of two hours. A sudden Summer shower came up m the meantime, and a sentimental young lady re- quested the song " The Rain upon the Roof," and Mrs. Hurton and her husband began to render it as a duet ; but m the middle of the second stanza, Mrs. Burton he- ban to cough, and Mr. Burton sniffed the air apprehen- sively, while several of theladies started to their feet, while others turned palo. The air of the room was evidently nlling with smoke. ^ ^ " There can't be any danger, ladies," said Mrs. Burton. You all know what the American domestic servant is 1 suppose our cook, with her delicate sense of the appro- priate, is relighting her fire, and has the kitchen door wide open, so that all the smoke may escape through the house instead of the chimney. I'll go and stop it.'^ 1 he mere mention of servants had its usual effect ; the adies began at once that animated conversation which tins subject has always inspired, and which it will pro- bably continue to inspire until all housekeepers gather in that hannv lanrl n.i^ «f ,.,1. -i •, • ?. . .. . ii-' ,-----3 •■■■' •" r^tiiKjax: uiuiiiiiis iz is tnat the American kitchen is undiscernible within its borders, and the purified domestic may stand before her mistress with- out needing a scolding. But one nervous youug lady iB^*« iaUBi't»^!tJ»^ - 1^* f!i-i mi 86 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. whose agitation was being manifested by her feet alone, happened to touch witli the toe of her boot the turn-screw of the hot-air registt;r. Instantly she sprang back and uttered a piercing scream, while from the register there arose a thick column of smoke. " Fire ! " screamed one lady. '* Water ! " shrieked another. " Oh ! " shouted several in chorus. Some ran up-stairs, others into the rainy street, the nervous young lady fainted, a business-like young matron, who had for years been maturing plans of operation in case of fire, hastily swept into a table-cover a dozen books in special morocco bindings, and hurried through the rain with them to a house several hundred feet away, while the faithful dog Jerry, see ais*?,!: the trouble afar off, hurried home and did his duty Xm- tlie best of his ability by barking and snapping fuii > isly at every one, and gal- loping frantically through the lj <^ /J f ^> Phpto^phic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 # V ^\ "^""^ '^^"^ '^<^ ^•u- '9 // ,< I fy.^wr^^ n« Pm<1<>!/^ n'o nnf ^r% \\a Ancta " And pi»j' ucar J vumc On, OuUgic, irutr ^v\> »••' -—e* — Toddie buried his face in the bed-covering and succeeded in fastening his teeth in his uncle's calf. A howl from 98 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. Th'JZ''rrL"J^J1:'°*''"r'' "''• J'"'"", tenderly, inen she turned to her nephews, and exclaime"»' both keep away m™y be'^in'T-h""'!''*"^ '^'"1 »' possible rterey^er^o^ may De in the house. Even the sound of neonle tillcin.r "*'Se'„"r'"S t !.r^»" "'"■ ""^ tootrX'''"""^ atalkm all the whole time," said Toddie " wh»n i, uncletc£i,,"TS; "«!,''''" "" I'"*'"^ "•■""« uiiues uotlinig. This work competed. to the full ..v ' B elkf«;*"'^V'i" ''"^? ''''""'"''^<» "-"•<"-' aieakfast won't be ready until eicht o'clock " said Mrs Burton, "and it is now only six. Tf y™, S C wl'.:td'afM-'''"''''"'lV'''"S'^' y»" ''«'' '''«"-S^^ oacK to bed, and lie .-is quietly as possible. J P \ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 93 f " Ih that the way not to be hungry ] " asked Toddie, with wide-open eyes, which always accompany the recep- tive mind. ** Certainly," said Mrs. Burton. " If you run about, you agitate your stomachs, and that makes them restless, and 80 you feel hungry." " Gwacious ! " said Toddie, " What lots of fings little boys has got to lyne (learn), hasn't they ? Come on, Budgie — let's go put our tummocks to bed, an' keep 'em from gettin' ajjerytated." " All right," said Budge. " But say, Aunt Alice, don't you s'pose our stomachs would be sleepier an' not so rest- less if there was some crackers or bread an' butter in 'em ? " "There's no one down stairs to get you any," said Mrs. Burton. " Oh," said Budge, " we can find 'em. We know where everything is in the i)antries and store-room." " / wish / were so smart," sighed Mrs. Burton. " Go along — get what you want — but do!i't come back to this room again. And don't let me find anything in disorder down stairs, or I shall never trust you in my kitchen again." Away flow the children, but their disappearance only made room for a wf^.vf torment, for Mr. Burton stopped in the middle of the operation of shaving himself, and remarked : I've been longing for Sunday to come, for your sake, my dear. The boys, as you have frequently observed, have very strange notions about holy things ; but they are also, by nature, quite religious and spiritually mind(Ml. You are not only this latter, but you are free from strange doctrines and the traditions of men. The niysti cal influences of the day will make themselves felt upon 94 OTBBJt PEOPLBS CHILDRBy. linkv ','^r"' I'"'* ^'"■'^' ^^ y™ ''i" have the oppor- Sa'^drths..' '"""^ '*"'""«^ ""O ■"•«" "- -«- Mr. Burton's voice had erown p liffl« oKoL... » v reached the close of thU ne«tT„7revere^t .it^^c" » that h,8 wife scrutinized his face closely to se^"^^ the™ m>ghti,otbe a laugh somewhere about it A friendiv coat ng „f lather protected one cheek, however and the o S'SSrtt't'""' •"''"r.'' ">« shape of tirotler »^^,^^' r •"'" compelled to accept the minKled "I'll take care of them while you're at church mv thif '!h?«'^M ^"'"^^^"^ * ^'S^ «^ ^«Ji«f- She determined that she would extemporize a special « Children^ Lr vice" immediately after breakfast, and impress her ne Fhr-ftf ^"^f P"^^^^« ^i^h the spirKthe dav then If her husband would but continue the good woik thus begun, It would be impossible for the bo?s to fall fcre^tlTessn^^,^^^^^^^ remained::!! getting that sht td Swelt^^htb^^^^^^ Llot early Mass, and promised herself to see that the chifdr^n s tt^:yL't"h^^-^' ^- ^"^on,r;h^^^^^^^^^^^ tPr%rar2rity t'tl^'^Toi'^iy^^ir^' t^'"" a.:S f"^?r '4 «»^« h-riedlte 'biy's S^r" ma'kZe'aU^^^^^^^^^ T^^"?.* ''^^' wUchw^'S to tlfp « L /fu t\ ''""^^y- ^n a s'na" table, drawn to the side of the bed, was a pie, a bowl of pickles a d^h of honey m the comb, and a o-aP ^-^ "r^ I ' " ■ tiAtn/^n Ko-1, J ' '•". — -'"aix paper packaireot cm- namon bark, and, with spoons, knives and forks ind OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 96 fingers, the boys were helping themselves alternately to these delicacies. Seeing his aunt, Toddie looked rather guilty, but Budge displayed the smile of the fully justi- fied, and remarked : '♦ Now you know what kind of meals little boys like. Aunt Alice. I hope you won't forget it while we're here." " What do you mean ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, sternly, "by bringing such things up-stairs ? " " Why," said Budge, " you told us to get what we wanted, an' we supposed you told the troof." "An' I ain't azh hungry azh I wazh," rem&rked Toddie, " but my tummuk feels as if it growed big and got-little again, every minute or two, an' it hurts. I wishes we could put tummucks away when we get done usin' 'em, like we do hats and overshoes. To sweep the remains of the unique morning lunch into a heap and away from her nephews, was a work which occupied but a second or two of Mrs. Burton's time ; this done, two little boys found themselves robed more rapidly than they had ever before been. Arrived at the break- fast-table, they eyed with withering contempt an irre proachable cutlet, some crisp brown potatoes of wafer-like thinness, and a heap of rolls almost as light as snowflakes. " We don't want none of this kind of breakfast," said Budge, " Of coursh we don't," said Toddie, " when we's so awful full of uwer fings. / don't know where I'zhe goin' tc put my dinner when it comes time to eat it." " Don't fret about that. Tod," said Budge. " Don't you know papa says that the Bible says something that rnoans ' dnn'f. wnrrv fill vnn h^vf t'* ' * " Mrs. Burton raised her eyebrows with horror, not un- mixed with inquiry, and her husband hastened to give 90 i^ ii OTHBR Pm,PLH„ CHlUmEK. was a ayed bv thn pv i T^ . ^''^- '^urtoii's wonder ""^e^fn tL7arior*r:'' "r'" «""''»X-8cl,o„I all by cur- twket an- pass around " box f,,,. . '" >'"" «'"« "» « -l" m % Sumlay-schools r- I"''""«s, just lik.. they viousVZS" of'!'*''^ «"•»• liurt„n, who had not pre- '•"1 SuildaySol '" '''"•"»' ""■■«<='*»"« "f the "31 in \l:£: "^^^ ^„d," said Budgo, •• ,«„,, ,,, , .^ doo™ so he c„u duW out W^ h*'"' ^ ''"" "" '^« h'm 'fore Sunday scho'^fCin,^'' '^" '"'"''°'"'' •''"«"'' As the door Vned there wa, bf ^ ^ '^'■°"' ""^ "'«*. and «.geneml'tumbli„gTf sm^luTvl -convulsive howl, same instant the doR JenvH^wi,?^. ','",•' at almost the h.d himself in the folds '^fw! '"»'" ''"""8 '■'"""'"'<• Two or three minutes later H,."?*^*' ' morning robe, room with a very nTefulcln ',?.*'''' "'"?«'' '^e diniug. " I guess we need thr^^ '?""'' '^ '''""'"''""' ' Auntilice. The dog don't want^r*"?' '"•^'"y '1"'*. we oughtto be comfoftedrn.e ^y^^ '''"^ «""' "»' -" Bur^S.^SfrU^r""'"' "" °^^''^"'->' -»-ke.l Mr. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDltKN. 97 " I 8up|)osc I can't kiHjp you away," si^'hiui Mrs. Hiir- ton, Iwuling tin; way to the parlor. * " Hoys," she sahl, greeting her nepliews, "first, we'll sing a Uttle hymn ' whatshallitbe?" " Ole Uncle Nod," said Toddie, promptly. " Oh, that's not a Sunday song," said Mrs. Burton. " / fink tizh," said Toddie, " 'cau.s(! it sayzh, free or four timezh, * He's gone where de good niggi^rs go,' an' that's hehhen, you know ; so it's a Sunday .song." " / think • Glory, glory, hallelujah ! ' is nicer," said Budge, " an' I know tlhat's a Sunday song, 'cause I've heard it in church." "Aw wight," said Toddie; and he immediatel) started the old air himself, with the words, " There liezh the whisky bottle, empty on the sheff," but was suddenly brought to order by a shake from his aunt, while , his uncle danced about the front j)arlor in an ecstasy not directly traceable to toothache. " That's not a Sunday song, either, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton. " The words are real rowdyish. Where did you learn themi" " 'Round the corner from our housh," said Toddie ; " an' you can shing you ole shongs yourself, if you don't like mine." Mrs. Burton went to the piano, rambled laong chords for a few seconds, and finally recalled a Sunday-school air in which Toddie joined as angelically as if his own musi- cal taste had never been impugned. "Now, I guess we'd better take up the collection before any little boys lose their pennies," said Budge, hurrying to the dining-room, and returning with a straw- berry-box which seemed to have been specially provided for the occasion ; this he passed gravefully before Tod- die, and Toddie held his hand over as carefully as if he o 98 OTHER PEdPLK'N CHIUHiKN. w were delimiting Imiulreds, and then Toddio took tlu; box and pjuised it bcfV.nr Undgf-, who \\v.\i\v tho Hamo dumb show, aftfi- which Mndgt- ivtook the box, shook it, list- ened, remarked, ♦• J t don't rattle— 1 guess it's all i.'aner- money to-day," placed it upon the mantel, reseated him- self, and remarked : "M>/r bring on your lesson." Mrs. Burton opened her liible with a sense of utter helplessness. With the natural instinct of a person given to thoroughness, she opened at the beginning of the bock, but she speedily closed it again— the first chapter of Genesis had suggested many a i)uzzling ipiestion even to her own orthodox mind. Turning the leaves rapidly passing, for conscience sake, the record of many a battle, the details of which would have delighted the boys, and hurrying by the prophecies as records not for the minds c»f children, she at last reached the New Testament, and the ever-new story of the only boy who ever was all that his parents and relatives could wish him to be. " The lesson will be about Jesus," said Mrs. Burton. " Little-boy Jesus or big-man Jesus ? " asked Toddie. " A— a — both," replied the teacher, in some confusion, " Aw wight," said Toddie. "G'won." " There was once a time when all the world was in trouble, without knowing exactly why," said Mrs. Bur- ton ; " but the Lord understood it, for He understands everything." " Does He know how it feels to be a little boy," asked Toddie," " an' be'sent to bed when he don't want to go ?" ■ " And he determined to- comfort the world, as He always does when the world finds out it can't 'comfort itself," continued Mrs. Burton, entirely ignoring her nephew's questions. " But wasn't there lotsh of little boyzh then ? " asked OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 99 Toddifi, " an' didn't they used to bo comforted an well as big follcH ? " " 1 bUppoHc so," siiid Mrs. Burton, but He know that if he comforted grown people, they would make the chil- dren happy." " I wiss He'd comfort you an' Uncle Harry ev'ry mornin', then," said Toddie. "G'won." "So He sent His own Son— His only Son— down to the world to be a dear little baby." " I should think He'd have made him a mier baby," said Budge," if He'd wanted to make everybody happy." "He knew best," said Mrs. Burton. "And while smart people everywhere were wondering what would or could happen to quiet the restless heart of people " " Izh restless hearts like restless tummuks ? " inter- rupted Toddie. " Kind o' pimpy an' wabbley ? " " I suppose so," said Mrs. Burton. " Poor folks," said Toddie, clasping his hands over hi^ waistband ; " Iz'he«sorry for 'em." " While smart folks were trying to think out what should be done," continued Mrs. Burton, " some simple shepherds, who used to sit around at night under the moon and stars, and wonder about things which they could not understand, saw a wonderfully bright star in the sky." ® " Was it one of the twinkle-twinkle kind, or one of the stand-still kind I " asked Toddie. " I don't know," said Mrs. Burton, after a moment's reflection. " Why do you ask 1" "'Cauzh," said Toddie, "I know what 'twazh there for, an' it ousht to have twinkkd. 'nunzh f.winlrlAv ofaf bob open an' shut that way 'cauzh they're laufthin* and can't keep still, an' I know Vd have laughed if I'd been li '*'mf'"rm. 100 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. W' a star an' was goin' to make a lot of folks so awful happy. G'woii." "Then," said Mrs. Burton, looking alternately and frequently at the two accounts of the Advent, " they suddenly saw an angel, and the shepherds were afraid."* " Should fink they icmdd be," said Toddie. " Every- body gets afraid vvher they see good people around. I 'spec' they thought the angel would say ' don't ! ' in about a minute." " But the angel told them not to be afraid," said Mrs. Burton, " for he had come to bring good news. There was to be a dear little baby born at Bethlehem, and He would make everybody happy." " Wouldn't it be nice if that angel would come an* do it all over again 1 " said Budge. " Only he ought to pick out little boys instead of sheep fellows. / wouldn't be afraid of an angel." "Neiver would I," said Toddie, "but I'd dzust go round behind him an' see how his wings was fastened on." " Then a great many other angels came," said Mrs. Burton, " and they all sang and sang together. The poor shepherds didn't know what to make of it, but after the singing waa over, they all started for Bethlehem to see that wonderful baby." "Just like the other day we went to see the sister- baby." * Yes," said Mrs. Burton ; " but instead of finding Him in a pleasant home and a nice room, with careful friends and nurses around him, He was in a manger out in a stable." " lliab was ^:iU5u lie wan nuamuiw uiai< liu uuuiu uu just what He wanted to, an' be just where he liked," said fiudge, " an' He was a little boy, an' little boys always ' 4 """"". ' '*Hi--'*?r!* OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 101 19 « like stables better than houses — I wish / could live in a stable always an' for ever." *' So do I," said Toddie, " an' sleep in mangers, 'cauzh then the horses would kick anybody that made me put on clean clothezh when I didn't want to. They gaveded him presentsh, didn't they 'I " •'Yes," said Mrs. Burton; "gold, frankincense, and myrrh." " Why didn't they give him rattles and squealey balls, like folks did buddar Phillie when he was a baby," asked Toddie. " Because, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton, glad of an op- portunity to get the sentiment of the story into her own hands, from which it had departed very early in the course of the lesson — " because He was no common baby, like other children. He was the Lord." " What ! The Lord once a little baby 1 " exclaimed Toddie. " Yes," replied Mrs. Burton,* shuddering to realize that Toddie had not before been taught the nature of the Holy Trinity. "An' played around like uvver little boyshi" con- tinued Toddie. " I — I — suppose so," said Mrs. Burton, fearing lest in trying to instill reverence into her nephews, she might herself prove irreverent. " Did somebody say * Don't ' at Him every time he did anyfing 1 " continued Toddie. " N — n — o ! I imagine not," said Mrs. Burton, because He was always good." *' That don't make no diffwelence," said Toddie. " The better a little boy triesh to be, the more folks says * Don't ' to him. So I guess nobody had any time to say anyfing elsh at all to Jesus." 102 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. Hi " What did He do next ? " asked Budge, as deeply in- terested as if he had not heard the same story many times before. " He grew strong in body and spirit," said Mrs. Bur- ton, and everybody loved Him ; but before He had time to do all that, an angel came and frightened his papa in a dream, and told him that the king of that country would kill little Jesus if he could find Him. So Joseph, the papa of Jesus, and Mary, his mamma, got up in the middle of the night, and started off to Egypt." " Seems to me that Egypt was 'bout as bad in those days as Europe is now," remarked Budge. *' Whenever papa tells about anybody that nobody can find, he says, 'Gone to Europe, I s'pose.' What did they do whenthev got there ? " j j •* I don't know," says Mrs. Burton, musing, '• I sup- pose the papa worked hard for money to buy good food and comfortable resting-places for his wife and baby, and I suppose the mamma walked about the fields and picked pretty flowers for her baby to play with ; and I suppose the baby cooed when his mamma gave them to Him and laughed and danced and played, and then got tired, and came and hid His little face in His mamma's lap, and was taken into her arms and held ever so tight, and fell asleep, and that His mother looked into His face as if she would look through it, while she tried to find out what her baby would be and do when He grew up, and whether He would be taken away from her, while it seemed as if she couldn't live at all without having Him very closely pressed to her breast and " Mrs. Burton's voice grew a little shaky, and, finally, failed her entiieiy. fJudge came in front of her, scru- tinized her intmtly, but with great sympathy, aloo, and finally leaned m elbows on her knees, dropped his face ' OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 103 into his own hands, looked up into her face, and re- marked : " Why, Aunt Alice, she was just like my mamma, wasn't she 1 An' T think yoit are justiike both of 'em ! " Mrs. Burton took Budge hastily into her arms, covered his face with kisses, and totally destroyed another chance of explaining the difference between the earthly and the heavenly to her pupils?, while Toddie eyed the couple with evident disfavour, and remarked : " I fink 'twould be nicer you'd see if dinner was bein' got ready, instead of stoppin' tellin' stories an' huggin* Budgie. My tummuck's all gotted little again." Mrs. Burton came back to the world of to-day from that of liistory, though not without a sigh, while the dog Jerry, who had divined the peaceful nature of the occasion so far as to feel justified in reclining beneath his mistress's chair, now contracted himself into the smallest possible space, slunk out of the doorway, and took a lively quick-step iu the direction of the shrubbery. Toddie had seen him, however, and told the news to Budge, and both boys were soon in pursuit, noticing which, the dog Jerry speedily betook himself to that distant retirement which the dog who has experience in small boys knows so well how to discover and maintain. As the morning wore on, the boys grew restless, fought, drummed on the piano, snarled when that instrument was closed, meddled with everything that was within reach, and finally grew so troublesome that their aunt soon felt that to lose was cheaper than to save, so she left the house to the children, and sought the side of the lounge upoij which her afllictod husband reclined. The divining sense of childhood soon foun . OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 106 " And do you expect me to do all theae things to-day ? " asked Mr. Burton. " N — n — no," said Budge, " unl-^ss you should get well an* feel just like it ; but we'd like to be with somebody who could do 'em if he wanted to. We like ladies that's all ladies, but then we like men that's all men, too. Aunt Alice is a good deal like an angel, I think, and you — you ainU. An' we don't want to be with angels all the time until we're angels ourselves," Mr. Burton turned over suddenly and contemplated the back of the lounge at this honest avowal of one of hu- manity's prominent weaknesses, while Budge continued : '* We don't want you to get to be an angel, so what I want to know is, how to make you well. Don't you think if I borrowed papa's horse and carriage an' took you ridin' you'd feel better ? I know he'd lend 'em to me if I told him you were goin' to drive." " And if you said you would go with me to take care of me 1 " suggested Mr. Burton. ** Y — e — es," said Budge, as hesitatingly as if such an idea had never occurred to him. " An' don't you think that up to the top of the Hawks-nest Rock an' out to Passaic Falls would be the nicest places for a sick man to go ? When you got tired of ridin' you could stop the carriage an' cut us a cane, or make us whistles, or find us pfingster apples (the seed-balls of the wild azalea), or even send us in swimming in a brook somewhere if you got tired of us." " H'm ! " grunted Mr. Burton. " An' you might take fings to eat wif you," suggested Toddie, " an' when you got roal tired and felt b.ad, you might stop and have a little picnic. I fink that would be dzust the fing for a man wif the toofache, And we could help you, lotsh," 106 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. " I'll see how I feel after dinner," said Mr. Burton. " But what are you going to do for me between now and then, to make me feel better ? " " We'll tell you storiezh," said Toddie. " Tlwm's what sick folks alwayzh likesh." " Very well," said Mr. Burton. " Begin right away." " Aw wight," said Toddie. " Do you wantsh a sad story or a d'zolly one 1 " " Anything," said Mr. Burton. " Men with the tooth- ache can stand nearly anything. Don't draw on your imagination too hard." " Don't never draw on no madzinasuns," said Toddie ; *'■ I only draws onislatesh." " Never mind ; give us the story." " Well," said Toddie, seating himself in a little rock- ing-chair, and fixing his eyes on the ceiling, " guesh I'll tell about Abrahammyn Isaac. Onesh the Lord told a num named Abraham to go up the mountain an' chop his little boy's froat open an' burn him up on a naltar. So Abraham started to go do it. An' he made his little boy Isaac, that he was going to chop and burn up, carry the kindlin* wood he was goin' to set him a-fire wiz. An' I want to know if you fink that wazh very nysh of him ? " " Well— no," said Mr. Burton. " Tell you what," said Budge, " you don't ever catcli me carryin' sticks up the mountain, even if my papa wants me to." " When they got up there," said Toddie, " Abraham made a naltar an' put little Ikey on it, an' took a knife an' was goin' to chop his froat open, when a andzel came out of hebben, an' said : * Stop a doin' that ! " So Abra- ham stopped, an' Ikey skooteS ; an' Abraham saw a sln!C[» caught in the bushes, an' he caught him, and killed him. He wasn't goin' to climb way up a mountain to kill some- 1 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 107 \ body, and not have his knife bluggy a bit. An' he burned the sheep up. An' then he went home again." " I'll bet you Isaac's mamma never knew what his papa wanted to do with him," said Budge, " or she'd never let her little boy go away in the mornin'. Do you want to bet 1 " " N — no, not on Sunday, I guess," said Mr. Burton. *' Now, suppose you little boys go out of doors and play for a while, while uncle tries to get a nap.'* The boys accepted the suggestion and disappeared. Half an hour later, as Mrs. Burton was walking home from church under escort of old General Porcupine, and enduring with saintly fortitude the general's compliments upon her management of the children, there came screams of fear and anguish from the general's own grounds, which iihe couple were passing. " Who can that be ? " exclaimed the general, his short luiirs bristling like the quils of his titular godfather. " We have no children." " I — think I know the voices ! " gasped Mrs. Burton, turning pale. " Bless my soul ! " exclaimed the general, with an accent which showed that he was wishing the reverse of blessings upon souls less needy than his own. " You don't mean " Oh, I do ! " said Mrs. Burton, wringing her hands. " Do hurry ! " The general puffed and snorted up his gravel walk and toward the shrubbery, behind which 'as a fishpond, from which direction the sound came. Mrs. Burton followed in time to see her nephew Budge help his brother out of the poiMl, while the general tuggod at a large crawfish which had fastened its claw upon Toddie's finger. The fish was game, but, with a mighty pull from the general, 1 108 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. fifi if and a superhuman shriek from Toddie, the fish's claw and S/tT wi '7^^"^'/'?'^ tlie general, still holding the the ond '^^^S^^'^^ backward and himself fell into "Ow-ow-ow !" howled Toddie, clasping the skirt of h.s aunt s mauve silk in a ruinous embrice,^hile the general floundered and snorted like a whale in dying agonies, and Budge laughed as merrily as if the whole MrrT^ll vf P'^ru""^ ''Pf ^^"y *'«^ his entertainment. Mrs Burton hurried her nephews away, forgetting in her mortification to thank the general for his^service, and placing a hand over Tooddie's mouih. " It hurts I " mumbled Toddie. Burt^^^^ ^^^^«" ^«»ch the fish at all for ? " asked Mrs. 1. " \ZT u u[^-^^^ baby-lobster/' sobbed Tobbie, " an' I P 1«'?' A'\ ^^'^^ ^ "^^^^^^ ^o grop him." Why didn t you do it, then ? " demanded the lady. gropp?d"yet/' ^''P'" '^^^ ^"^^^' ' " ^' ^^"'^ ^" True enough, the claw of the fish still hung at Toddie's finger and Mrs. Burton spoiled a pair of four button kids in detaching it, while Budge continued to laugh. At length however, mirth gave place to brotherly love, and Budge tenderly remarked : j , nu " Toddie dear, don't you love Bother Budgie? " " Yesh," sobbed Toddie. "Then you ought to be happy, "said Budge, " for vou've made him awful happy. If the fish hadn't caught you, the general couldn't have pulled him off, an' then he wouldn t have tumbled into the pond, an' oh. my-didn't claw and ding the fell into the skirt k'hile the n dying le whole iinment. Jg in her ice, and :ed Mrs. I, "an' I anted to lady, isn't all roddie's ton kids ;h. At >ve, and ' you ve ;ht you, ;hcn he —didn't OTHER PEOPLE'S CniLDREN". 100 «( Then you's got to be bited wif a fisa," said Toddie, " an make him tumble in again, for mc to laugh 'bout." " You're two naughty boys," said Mrs. iJurton. " Is this they way you take care of your sick uncle 1 " " Did take care of him," exclaimed Toddie ; " told him a lovaly Bible story, an' you didn't, an' ho wouldn't have had not no Sunday at all if 1 hadn't done it. An we's goin' to take him widin' this afternoon." Mrs. Burton hurried home, but it seemed to her that she had never met so many inquiring acquaintances during so short a walk. Arrived at last, she ordered her nephews to theirroom,and flung herself in tears beside her husband, murmuring : " Harry ! " And Mr. Burton having viewed the ruined dress, with the eye of experience, uttered the single word : ♦' Boys ! " " What am I to do with them 1 " asked the unhappy woman. Mr. Burton was an affectionate husband. He adored womankind, and sincerely bemoaned its special grievances ; but he did not resist the temptation to recall his wife's announcement of five days before, so he whispered : " Train them." « J " Mrs. Burton's humiliation by her own lips was post- poned by a heavy footfall, which, by turning her face, she discovered was that of her brother-in-law, Tom Lawrence, who remarked: " Tender confidences, eh ? Well, I'm sorry I intruded. There's nothing like them if you want to be happy. But Helen's pretty well to-day, and dying to have her boys with her, and I'm even worse with a similar longing. You can't spare them, T suppose ? " fi 110 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. rim peculiar way in which Tom Lawrence's eyes danced as he awaited a reply would at any other time, have roused all the defiance in Alice Burton's nature ; but now, looking at the front of her beautiful dress, she only said : " Why — I suppose — we might spare them for an hour or two ! " " You poor, dear Spartan," said Tom, with genuine sympathy, "you shall be at peace until their bedtime, anyhow." And Mrs. Burton found occasion to rearrange the ban- dage o!i her husband's face so as to whisper in his ear : " Thank Heaven !" CHAPTER VI. THE only drawback to the perfect joy of the Burton's Sunday afternoon was the anticipation of the re- turn of theii- nephews, for even this proved to be with- out grounds. Tlie boys returned fast asleeep, Budge on his father's arms, and Toddie's head pillowed on the shoulder of faithful Mike ; and, excepting a single sigh of " fwolic" from Toddie, no sound was heard from either of them until the next morning, when, finding that they slept later than usual she went to their chamber to arouse them. She found Budge sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes with one hand, while with the other he shook his brother, and elicited some ugly grunts of remonstirance^ '* Tod ! " exclaimed Budge — " Tod ! wake up ! we ain't where we was ! " -r~«-»-— -J OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. Ill 1 !.< '• Don't care if we isn't," said Toddio ; " Tzhe in — » nicer playsh — Izlie in — big candy shop." " No, you ain't said liudgi;, shaking vigorously, and trying to pick his brother's eyes open ; your're at Aunt Alice s, and when you v :nt to sleep you were at mamma's house. ' " Pw — w — w — ! " cried Toddie, arising slowly ; " you're a hateful bad boy, Budgie ; I was a-dreamin' I was in a candy-store, and gottcd all my pockets full an' bof hands fidl, too, an' now you's woketed me up an' my hands is all empty, an' I hazn't got any pocket clozhezh on me at all." " Well, next time you have a dream I won't wake you at all, even if you have nightmares, an' dream awful things. Say, Aunt Alice 1 " continued Budge, '* how do folks dream I wonder ? What makes everything go away and be something else? " " It is t.ie result of indistinct impressions upon a serai- dormant brain," said Mrs. Burton. " Oh ! " said Budge. Mrs. Burton thought she detected a note of sarcasm in her nephew's exclamation, but he was so young, and he seemed so meek of countenance, that she abandoned the idea. Besides, her young nephew had been saying, *' Aunt Alish— Aunt Alish — Aunt Alish — Aunt Alish -" as rapidly as he could with an increasing volume of voice. Mrs. Burton finally found time in which to say : "What?" ■ " Did you say pressin' on brains made us dream fings, Aunt Alish ? " « Ye— es," said Mrs. Burton : " that is the " ' "Well, then," intcrrupt^^d Toddie, " J^uRt you sit down on my head an' make that candy-shop coniie back again, won't you 1 " Hip 112 UtUBM PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. ) "Say, Aunt Alice," t^viA Budgo, wn?u where you couldn't ' OTHER PEOPLE'a CHILDHEN. 113 8t'o anything but sky ; an* your eyes had such an over-so- fur loi)k in thorn that 1 thought you must bo lookin' straight at the Lord." "If you sees Him," ."marked Toddie, " I wiss you'd ask Him to send that dream back again to-night— to presh on U'V byains an' nuike it come back, and then let me stay ; l- p until I yetted up all the candy I gotted into my pockets an' hands." The appearance of the chambermaid, wiio came to the pennies them?" ^ ^^ ^^^^y ouy candy with claL'^J Tod'It'' ''''' "' ""'^ '^^^ »"-* have ! » ex- '* I suppose they take their money ho.np tn f k.- and mammas," said Mrs. Burton "fofth!vrrn' ^''P*' people. Perhaps the parents of those two nnn'^.^.M' boys are sick at this verv momfinf a P^? ^^^^^ anxiously for the return o7tSi?i h'^ ^'? ^^^^^'^S far away." rMem tL Llf . i^""^^ ^^^^ a^e so ^h«,,P-Uii^o"f' Judty t Cffirel td'"f i; ^^^ published at that time.) ^""aren had not been "An' do the .little boys make all fKof • , ;; Yes, dear old fellow," said Mrs. Burton. there isn't any wVto tell th^^^ i"i«k. sl.,«s dusty. Dzust see hov^ a ^"^f ' i"" *" 8"' "'«" miJdle of [he street Sir„„ Z 7'f''' "^'""^ '» *« «ay ' Don't I ' to Vm ^TJ^l / "^'' ''™'' «" ""body to •em for it then tht^' ge"ts h„™t' l'^^ ^"»?8'» '"^nk sicker." ^ ^ "*• ' «"sses I was a mu- wantT^lthiXleTLre^Ch"^''''^ ^''S^' "»»' -« why don't you have a h^^ "^happy. Say, Aunt Alice, thJyou co^U ^^uVr ridTn' r "'^^ ''"' """"""^ » „„, .^'It """^ >™'t rieh enough to k..n „,.„.^ v- poor ones." ' ^"'^*^"' ^^^ he doesn't like f SBsaa ex- OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 123 1 I "Why, how much does good horses cost?" asked Budge. •* I think Mr. Blaniier's horses are pretty good, but papa says they'd be dear at ten cents a-piece." " I suppose a good horse costs three or four hundred dollars," said Mrs. Burton. "My— y— y!" exclaimed Budge. "That's more money than it costs our Sunday-school to pay for a mis- sionary ! Which is the goodest— horses or missionaries 1 " " Missionaries, of course," said Mrs. Burton, leaving the piazza, with a dim impression that she had, during the morning, answered a great many questions with very slight benefit to any one. The boys cared tor themselves until lunch-time, and then returned with rather less appetite than was peculiar to them. The new siege of questioning which their aunt had anticipated was postponed ; each boy's mind seemed to be in the reflective, rather than the receptive, attitude. After lunch they hastily disappeared, without any at- tempt on the part of their aunt to prevent them, for Mrs. Burton, had arranged to make, that afternoon, one of the most important of calls. Mrs. Congressman Weathervane had been visiting a friend at Hillcrest, and Mrs. Weathervane's mother and Mrs. Burton's grand- mother had been schoolday acquaintances, and Mrs. May- ton would have come from the city to pay her respects to the descendant of the old friend of the family but some of the infirmities of age prevented. And 'Mrs. Mayton instructed her daughter to call upon Mrs. Weathervane as a representative of the family, and Mrs. Burton would rather have lost her right hand or her new spring hat rather than have disregarded such a command. So jshfi h^d himrl a r«arrionpp <\r>A f?-.•"<^.->^ .,.~ : — -„, L-l.l- — ^ i — ,. ,ja,itU\^^ tllivt U^jixocU. iiii inepfUllCiUlUie toilet, and recalled and tabulated everything she had ever If! 124 OTHER PEOPlK's CHlLmBlf. W^ht:;:*"^ '^""^ "'■'": ''"^ -ho had become M„. from u„rxpSrrk4pl'aL""t„^'r "' ''"^^ '''«'"'<' seats. T|,e earriaee ro Ul !ff ■ ;?'"™ ■■* ?""■<"• of il« fell into an impS^t " 0^'.^' • "•" *^'^- J'"""'' Power which often blesses n7wh„ P? '" '" ">« k'nd blessed. The carria-e Mch«f Tl^".'"""' '"'P'"=' '» ^e Weathervane was vi^SL and^h» •■?,"'.", "'"'f« ""• vane vurned out to be one of the m^r?'" *^''- ^^''"'«'' women, before whose s.iU w ' "'""-ming of young assumed dignity Sed liL 1^"'""""' ""^ B'-ftonl store of vef erable Sy t ' 1™T '" ^''^' "»'' her from the memo^ whTb Ld "uarled trP'"^ f <""=« But joy is never nnalloyed Tn hit ? T i*^""''*'" While the couple were chattiL 1 ? "'*«'• '^orld. fluen<»ofttatLnseo?"aC'|.."r'ly under the in- fant about and sweet women dL ^"='' '-""hsome men and Mrs. Weathermrwl^ ?„ " J"' ''""'"« «iemselvee, should Visit her arwX'^tr dS^'lt ^^B"'"" Mrs. Burton was trvinff fco np7o,, ^ i»^ ^^^ session, and to accept the ^-riolll^^^Xl^^L '!,^^*^--ne there arose under the window f^I ^'i* ^ ^^^ «^ t^'o, and the wail of some baX nil 5 ^^f^^ «^ <^he violin - Those wretched SlSlr,"'^ "''r ^"*- Weathervane. "ForwhchnJ^ • ^^^Jaimed Mrs. we condemned to listen to them T ""^' ^ "^"^^^' ^^^ ton, " ht'wtTeTlTu^t'r^^^^^^^ -d Mrs. Bur- perience with them to day Th! ^'' " "^^ «^««°d ^^^ half an hour this momin?'' ^ ''"''' ^* "^^ ^ouse for saidM^t^ea'tWr 1< ^1' ^^" *^^« ^^^— ^" t,Wn TO5*»- - ^ »""C. ^n I I m?A?/ arm..,] _ J. t>vo «,.. ,„„, ,„,j ,,,, ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 125 m- ci. d xAI 8. Weathervaue approached some othe? topic when the violin under the window gave vent to a sS of terrible groans of anguish, while the wind-instrument apparently a flute, shrieked discordantly in three no es a n octave apart from each other. •' An attempt to execute something upon one strin*- I .^oppose," said Mrs. Weathervane, ^'and the execution i« successful only as criminal executions are. What Jhould be done to the little wretches ? And yet one can^ help giving them money ; did you see the story of their week? It seems they are hired in Italy by dreadful men who bring them here, torture them into learning their wretched tunes, and then send them out to p a v Home just so much money every day " " / lPr..T' !.'"l^ f^^^SS .' " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. tliat 1 gave them a good many pennies this morning I must have an intuition of their fate. I'm certain I had 110 musical enjoyment to be paid for. These little child- ren can hardly be as old as some children in nurseries, window '""w Th'" u'^ f'l Weathervane, going to the wmdow. "The elder of these two boys cannot be more llT«'f ' "f^^ '^^ y''''''^*'' "^^y ^^ f«"^ ' ^^<^ the older looks so sad, so introspective. The younger -poor little tellow-has only expectancy in his countenance. He is looking up to all the windows for the pennies that he ex pects to be thrown to him. He has pJobably not had so ixard an experience as his companion, for his inafrnment i« only a common whistle. Think of the fraudrVhich tJieir masters practise upon the tender-hearted! The 126 OTHiili PEOPLE a CHILDREN. ;; It's perfectl . dreadful ! '■ said Mrs Burton eh Je:"4 t"e\:t"?- ^tf" T^ f^ «' '- "The older of thTsSe C^Tt^ ""''■ ^^athervane. his face, did not he^onL ,li *"^ """y "«'''« ""^s in abuse inscribe d^lro^elTh "^"'Vu' ^"P"""'"" ""d vilely dirty as he "is ha, » ! "• • ^^^ ™»"«'- »ne. figure. Heissmilinenow SfT Pf ""-^^que head and so^e^rtist eou,d cSrexifrLLtf "^.'^ ' ^'™ ^^ do>v, " I 'h^^dn^tt'r.'^,*''^- '^""O". approaching the win- " WhatS^bb the ; ttrr^' '""i°.i"'- ""'"J' ■'" vane, as her visitor fell btkf! ""™''.'-«^? Mrs. Weather- into a chair. '^""" ">« *"'«'<'«' and dropped /# mi ■ (< Til "0h:X":*2f7rfe'ir"j'r'', ^'^- «"'"»>• " Stolen from homrr i„" '^T^^' ""^"d^n ! " discerning a ma" eZs L»!^""' -.1, ■""■'■ ^eathervane, " No-oh, no M'saTdCB '".""" ''""'''"g distance home an hJnr or two a^o f"'T- "''<"■' '^em at should have taken thTs fS .. i *" l "^^'"^ "^y they dreadful, no matter what fsdo^lT ^t"""* '"»'= ^"' ^ she continued, hurrv7nlr to tl,. • 'J"' *''™- ^ ""PPose," his uncle's vi£7hio1, I thin J"'^T'n' *"' ^^dle hiU owner as his wife Ye, L i, v'? ^^^^ ^ dear to its Mrs. Burton, rppearin» 'at tb.'^ " ' 5°^' ' " «^'''»™«'d home." ' ''PP^*""g »' the piazza-door, "go directly witM^Sril/'r/T' ''T ">« ''»y« '<«"*>«W«I*II mmm 128 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN) Undo Harry himself, moved by his aching tooth, had returned from New York in time to hear, unperceived, the last portion of Budge's explanation, after which he heard the remainder of the story from his wife. His ex- pression as he listened, his glance at his nephews, and his frantic examination of his beloved violin, gave the boys to understand how utter is sometimes the failure of good intentions to make happy those persons for whose benefit they are exerted. The sombre reflections of the young men were unchanged by anything which occurred during the remainder of the afternoon, and when tliey retired, it was with a full but sorrowful heart that BiulKe prayed : " Dear Lord, I've been scolded again for trvm' to do somethin' real nice for other people. I guess it makes me know something about how the good prophets an' Jesus felt. Please don't let nie have to be crucified for doin' good, for Christ's sake, Amen." And Toddie prayed : " Dee Lord, there's some more * Don't ' been said to me, an' I fink Aunt Alice ought to be shamed of herself. Won't you please make her so, for Christ s sake, Amen." CHAPTER VIL XHAT," murmured Mrs. Burton as she completed her toilet on Tuesday morning, and i>repared ^^ ;end to the breakfast-table, " promises a pleasant day. Then, in a louder tone, sue said to her husband ■ *' Harry, just listen to those deaichiklri their voiceb sweet ? " OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 129 "Sing before breakfast, cry before dark,'" L'runted Mr. burton, quoting a popular saying. " For shame ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. " And when they're singing sweet little child-hymns too. Tl ^re I they re starting another." Mrs. Burton took the graceful listening attitude pecu- liar to ladies, and her husband stood stock-still in the military, yet idiotic, position of "attention," and both heard the following morceau : ^^ " I want— to be- an an— gel An' with— the an— gels stand ; A crown- npon— my tore— head A hop— i>er in— my hand." « Hopper-h m-hke enough," said Mr. Burton. Ihey refer to the hmd-leg of a grass-hopper, my dear. Iheangehc life would be indeed dreary to those youn casters without some such original plaything." ° "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said the lady 1 hope you won't suggest any such notion to them 1 don t believe they would ever have had so many peculiar views about the next world if some one hadn't exerted an improper influence— you and your brother-in-law, Tom Lawrence, their father, for instance," "Well," said Mr. Burton, devoting himself to his hair- brush, " If they are so susceptible to the influence of others, I suppose i/ou have them about reformed in most re- spects 1 You have had entire charge of them for seven days now. .''^i^— only six," corrected Mrs. Burton, hastily. *'I " That there really was one day less for them to re- *m f saia Mr. Burton, looking his wife full in the face Mrs. Burton dropped her eyes quickly, trying first to n II ■■mi immrnm 130 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. turn in search of something she did not want, but her hus- band knew his wife's nature too much to be misled by this ruse. Putting as much tenderness in his voice as he knew how to do, he said : " Little girl, tell the truth now ; haven't you learned more than they have ') " Mrs. Burton still kept her eyes out of range of those of her husband, bub replied, with admirable composure : " I have learned a great deal, as one must always do, when brought in contact with a new subject, but the ac- ' quired knowledge of an adult is the source of new power, and of much and more knowledge to be imparted." Mr. Burton contemplated his wife with curiosity which soon made place for undisguised admiration, but when he turned his face again to the mirror he could see in its ex- pression nothing but pity. Meanwhile the cessation of the children's songs, the confused patter of little feet upon the stair, and an agonized yelp from the dog Jerry, indi- cated that the boys had left their chamber. Then the Burtons heard their own door knob turned, an indignant kick which followed the discovery that the door was bolted, and then a shout of — " Say ! " " What's wanted? " asked Mr. Burton, " I want to come in," answered Budge. " Me too," piped Toddie. " What for ? " demanded Mr. Burton. A moment of silence ensued, and then Budge answered : "Why, because we do. I should tliink any body would understand that without asking." " Well, we bolted the door because we didn't want any one to come in," answered Mrs. Burton, "I should think any body could understand that without asking." " Oh !" replied Budge. ■'■ V/oll, I'll tell you what we i. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHtLDREN. 131 was want to come in for; we want to tell you something perfectly lovely." " Do you wish to listen to an original romance, my dear ?" asked Mr. Burton. " Certainly," replied the lady, " And break your resolution to teach them that our chamber is not a general ante-breakfast gathering-place ?" " Oh, they won't infer anything of the kind if we atl- mit them just once," said Mrs. Burton. " H'm— we won't count this time," quoted Mr. Burton from " Rip Van Winkle," with a most suggestive smile, which was instantly banished by a frown from his wife. Mr. Burton dutifully drew the bolt, and both boys tum- bled into the room. " We were both leaning against the door," explained Budge J "that's why we dropped over each other; we knew you'd let us in." Mr. Burton gave his wife another peculiar look, which the lady affected not to notice, as she asked : " What is the lovely thing you were going to tell us ?" " I— I— I— I— I—" interrupted Toddie. " Tod, be still," commanded Budge. *' I began it first." " But I finked it fyst," expostulated Toddie. " I'll tell you what, then, Tod— I'll tell 'em about it an* you worry 'era to do it— that's fair, isn't it f' and then, without awaiting the result ot Toddie's deliberations, Budge continued : " What we want is to have a pic-nic. Papa'll lend you the carriage, and well get in it and go up to the Falls, and have a lovely day of it. That's just the nicest place I ever saw. You can swing us in the big swing there, an' take us in swimming, and row us in a boat, and buy \\8 lemonade at the hotel, and wo can throw stones -""im^M 133 OTSEn PEOPLE'S OmiDltEN. in the water an' paddle, an' catch fish, an' run races All these other things— not the first. n..«= i * u about- we can do for ourselves an' you "n- W *["" can he „n the grass under the trees, an' smoke ci^Lf an' be happy, 'cause you've made us hanov Th»t'= f^ ' ffi bT f "■ ^"^ '""^' '»'''' lot'^^lnnc^aTonf S plats ^Olfv/''"^ empty-feeling when they gT'to such a'^raketewTraC Xks T„te7>!" '"^ .^'"^' a«.y./«,. without our catcwlighTm'' ^'' '"' "=*"' ^et the:frA^^^at■t„i^\^t's;e^■^™^ u t J M ^ ^''^^'^^ ^^s- -Burton. ^^ J.nn^itt,s;:fSsa^rbte;^^^^^^^^^ Budge" -Ta'vouTn'in''^ •''''"' """ ?!<=»*«'« done, said an J? w^y" Ck.-S'sX-V;-"^- = du'ellf ^a"''! f ^ M,r- Burton. - That m7^ be an in- Its all told now, Tod," said Budge " Whv dnn'f you worry om 1 " ^ "^ "°" '' OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 133 now yon Toddie clasped his aunt's skirts affectionately, and said m most appealing tones : ^ » , '• You'se a-goin' to, izhn't you ? " " Papa says it was always easier for you to say ' ves ' than *no,' remarked Budge; an' " ^ ^ "Ai^?? ^^?i^*^^^®° y^""^ brother-in-law gives you," re- marked Mrs. Burton. ^ ^ ' « "3""' ■^.f'''^^ ^T^ ^>*^y say she thought ym said ^ yes pretty easy," contmued Budge, addressinghis aunt. Hnrir^^ Ik^ ""^^""l something that you said to Uncle Harry by the way she talked." Mrs. Burton flushed angrily, but Budge continued : " An' you ought to be as good to us as you are to him, 'cause he's a big man, an' don t have to be helped every time he wants any fun. Besides you ve got him all the time, but you can only have us four days longer-three days besides to-day." Another paraphrase of Scripture- -application per- fect remarked Mr. Burton to his wife. " Shall we go ? " ^^ Can you go ? asked the lady, suddenly grown radiant. 1 suppose- Uwow; I can ! " replied Mr. Burton, fondly assuming that the anticipation of a day in his society was thesolecausoof his wife's joy. Mrs. Burton knew his thoughts, but failed to correct them, guilty though she felt at her neglect. The idea that she would be practically relieved of responsibility Ki!i"^ u^'^l^ "^^^ *^^ ^^"se of her happiness. The children had always preferred the companionship of their uncle to that of his wife ; she had at times been secretly mortified and offended at this preference ; but during the week just ending she had entirely lost this feeling. Ihe announcement that their host and hostess thou L'ht lavuurubiy or the proposition was received by the boys with the most lively manifestations of delight, and for tiwp hours no other two persons in the State were morej mitlmmii^tm 134 OTBEB P£OPLI!'S CHILDREN. the lunch mtU the «1 L ff "f l™'*''' *« P^^^ng of and protected her elf from r/'''''* *"" ^'""^ «>« ''i'^hen, the door. Thrboti; h,!?, ''''"''"5 "'™^''"' '>y '""king gage to fill iZ,Z^l Pa suggested enough extra bag- mt'e which war i^rrkarded r'r'''^ instructions a?^a their commands were Sd ^ ' "'*"' "'* '''>'«'' the^'ciSge/ttrdrjet ^\Pf ''^" '™^ '»'«'» *-"» party started Thev*^h»^7^ ^ '"''P'"^ '" * '''«". and the when Budge remarked ? ''" '" '•^'^ "''<"" "^^ '»'■'»'»«. " yj""]" §""•>'' ^ ^^nt a drink." plenty 7„ the table r'' ""• ^"^'""- " ^''-■» *ere M.-S. Burton.^"" ''""«'^'' breakfasttiie ?" continued =5" ""•'" ict;eivcji some crarlfpr''-''«t^^ hl^hj'ltX '*' him go," said Mr. Burton, " Per- A, ' 'U., t Cometh , and be- j it down )'re goin* sh a pic- g," said 1 kind o' ;h iiUle ar little en that at her." "try to ^ays be 3rwhjn e. "I leash." Burton, burton. ;n they I see Isaac, en, an' when- Letsh " Per- aje alj OTffEM PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 137 f My ! said Toddie, opening his eyes very wide, and keeping silence for at least two minutes. Then he said /saw a wabbit family eatin' dinner once. They had a little bittie of a table, an' little bits of chairzh, an' the papa wabbit ashkted a blessin', an' " "Toddie, Toddie, don't tell fibs ! " said Mrs. Burton as she again felt herself touched by her husband's elbow' " Izn t tellin' fibs," said Toddie. « An' a little boy wabbit said, 'papa. I wantsh a dzink.' So his father took a little tumbler, dzust about as big as a fimble, an held a big leaf up sideways so the dew would run off into the ^mbler, an' he gived it to the little boy wabbit An' ff^ ^^^l ^?^ ^""^ '^^""*^^» *^^ mamma wabbit gave each ot the little boy wabbits a strawberry to suck. An' none ot eni had to be told to put on the napkins, 'cause they only had one dress, and that wa^ a color that didn't show dyte, like mamma says / ought to have." " Were all the little rabbits boys— no girls at all ? " asked Mr. Burton. " Yash, there was a little sister baby ; but she wazh too little to come to the table, so the mamma-wabbit held her in her lap and played 'Little Pig .Went to Market ' on^ her little bits of toes. Then the sister-baby got tired an the mamma wabbit wocked it in a wockin'-tsair an' sung to it 'bout — ' * Papa gone a-huntin', To get a little wabbit-skin To wap the baby buntin— baby wabbit— in.' Then the baby wabbit got tired of its mamma, an' got down an' cwept around on itsh handsh an' kneezh, an' didn t dyty its djress at all or make its knees sore a bit cauzn there wazh onl^ nice leaves an' pitty fynes (ferns) 138 OTHER PBOt'LE'S CUUDBEN. for it to cweep on, instead of uely old carnrt» «„ a you know / was a wabbit once J" ^ ^''^' ''"' " Why, no," said Mr. Burton. " Do tell us about it " ;; Harry ! remonstrated Mrs. Burton. " '*• " n/l'aa'hr'wfetly inSi"' T'f^'* '"'' '"-'"'"'^• were moaning ZX7:^.2Xo'\ro^ '^:^J^. fings wif my tchunk— _" ^' ^'"^^"^ "P "^i ^' m.lt^:!''"^ ''""'' ^™ *''"'''^' TodJie." observed " I know it," said Toddip « Knf t ♦ j • . lant (elephant . An" I gotlotsh "f I "™^? '''"' » ?Pha- tchunk. an' folks gave me lotsh nf ^ * *^'' "''^"y ^^ay.;^^, iuts ^cr'aV^rnd7^aTaL-!:.t"iX " Anything more ? " asked Mr. Burton " w stand nearly anything." ^^'J"- -Burton. "We can "Well," said Toddie, reflectively ^' T «„f.,H ,^ u was awful hungry. I guesh 'twas djust now "^ ' " ^ MrrBCto?'fi/M''*?'r^ ''^"J'" «"'<» '«'• Burton, mrs. jjurton, with a sigh, opened a basket. ..,^1 ' Tu«u.e a j,iece of cake, and the young man r;markedr can •'I OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 139 t " Thish izh to pay me for tellin' the troof about all them nngs, izhn't it?" About this time the party reached the Little Falls, and Budge remarked : " I supjmse hmch'll be the first thing]" " No," said Mrs. Burton ; " we won't have lunch until our usual lunch-hour." " But you can have all the drinks you want," said Mr. Burton. " There's a whole river full of water." " Oh, I don't feel as if I'd ever be thirsty again," said Budge. " But I wish Jerry was here to swim in after sticks. You do it, won't you ?— you play dog an' I'll play Uncle Harry an' thiow things to you." By this time Toddie had sought the water's edge, and, taking a stooping position, was looking for fish. ' The shelving stone upon which he stood was somewhat moist, and Toddle was so intent on his search that he stooped lorward considerably, and suddenly there was heard a splash and a howl, and Toddie was seen in the river in water knee-deep. To rescue him was the work only of a moment, but to stop his tears was no such easy matter. " What is to be done ? " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. " Take off his shoes and stockings and let him run bare- footed," said Mr. Burton. " The day is warm, and he can t catch cold," "Why ! " exclaimed Toddie, " Izh goin' to be barefoot all day ? I wishes thish river wazh right by our housh— I'd tumble in every day. Budgie, Budgie, if vou wantsh tun djust go tumble splash into the river." But Budge had strolled away, and was tugging at some moss m the crevice of a rock. Here his aunt found him, and he explained, toiling as he talked ; " I thought— this— -would make such— a— lovely cush ion for— for you to sit on." ' 140 OTBBJi PEOPLE'S OmLDBEN. «crean,, fo^r a lit J nake had ^"^et' ^?\ *ith a terrific 4 hllS C5ef,r '■ i' ;Sl!''I':f '^*'-• ^^"'"n. care, thing to make you forget it." ^'""' '""" '^'' «<""«- " V'^sll, you can't," aohhs.! p..j , , ■nay be, a piece of pie would do^t^'it 1"" r.-'-nloa". harm to try I s'pose !" wouldn't do any . ^ed'-S tt' '^a^'gl' f P'^ - h- husband looking suspicious!/ abo^ foJV" ,^« » diplomatist, espy Budge'a prescr.^„.ld devkLt^ ^°'''"" ■"•«•" iTlthr "' ™^'' ^•:« <^'-v~hr'Si:tt hap^h'e^t'XVvH^^ '.™. Per- further down the river i " ° *"* "'e '=ad gone thetntf 2 rit b JSm r""%r "^ "P «»<> "'ong he heard a shrill voice sinmn-l ^"^ ^^^^^"S water, "ingle line of an old Methoa;!', '"' "™^ »«"'" ">« " '^"-»8 riv-e«, mfeh-ty fountains ! » tJS aCnrnoV:? ^^ol"^''?'^ h""^' -» -- *■"! in the very e^staTyoflieS ^T ''.!'»T ^^.^alls, OTHER PEOPLE^s CHILDREN. 141 he Would throw bl^k wfhp^J' to take the fall itself ; then he would thro«r unable to comfortably conShogrL'^ttSt"" Su.ldenlycom,ngup to the san.ls tlowtheclTffai.neLl Sin i.-iiEiretrh""^"'"'^^"""''- '"«' "-hK over you an shake yourself in it, an' shake if nil nff r an froo an' froo' an' laughed like everyfings A„' Je° „s sat right up on the bank lookin' at 'e,' ;; ..ughed T;? em Mr. Burton concealed all of himself but his eves and hat to observe the impending conflict of ideas Tut no don'frantt.i'""' " ''" ^'' ^""^ "-" ^^^ -hen I mg wildly back towards HiUcrest while i,,«Hfff ^ K „7r&^i'-i?''f .''- o' tt'3:irt*hf 142 OTtlElt PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. aff!^^^^ ^V^^ cavalryman's natural instinct, Mr Burton s tuTelnf a'^^^^^^^^^ ^V^"r ' ^"^ '"^^ anTmal s£ so successtully, and had such a clear stretch of roadwav before him, that humanity soon had Mr. Burton's hS for Its own, and he hurried to the assistance of Budge 1—boo-hoo— was just goin' to lead the— boo-hoo-hoo --horse down to ^ater like-boo-hoo-hoo-ah-like naua does, when he-o/. / how my elbow hurts '-ius nulled away an went ofF^ And I caught the strap ti stop^m an -oh! 0M,-he just pulled me along on my mouthTn tt touldlutl """' ] ^^^'^"- J --"oLratthe Mr P r u -^T' ^""^ g"^ ^ mouthful left." Mr. Burton hurriedly unharnessed the other horse and startea riding bareback, in search of the runawav while his wife who h^d intuitively known of some TroVe „ the air, hurried up the cliff with Toddie and Ted bo h "Oh, not unlp.ss you need to for some particular nur- pose; said Mrs. Burton, who, like most otheT people n trouble fought most earnestly against any fomKVr ' ' CarS mM^^'"^ ' ^^^P ^T ''"^^'^^ extrLity of wo ';: VMt u ^ ^^"^^ mouths ever be quiet ? " ^ 1 \ v*'?'' ''«speration Mrs. Burton unpacked all th^ lunch-baskets and told the children to Mp thems Ivea Af. for her she sought the roadside and i eamltTv turned tt'thrl' ^^TW^u' ''^ hopeSeds T l' turned to the carriage to find that the boys had eaten all vereTo T^ 'f^' ^T^ ">* "'"^ ""^ «'« '''« sugar which were to lave formed part of some delicicious coftle, wh ch Mr. Bnrton was to have made a la militmre, and hi«l bat . OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 143 . tered into shapelessness a box of sardines which they had attempted to open with a stone. "You bad boys!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton. "Now what will your poor uncle have to eat when he comes back all tired, hungry, and thirsty, and all because of your mischief. Budge." •J ^^^^' ^^ havn't touched the crackers. Aunt Alice," said Budge. " There's what he gave us when we said we was awful hungry, an' there's a whole river full of water to drink, like he told ua about when he thought we was thirsty." The information did not seem to console Mrs. Burton particularly, but she ventured to the roadside with the feeling that she could endure it to know that her husband was starving if she could only see him safe back again. Ihe moments dragged wearily on, the boys grew restive and then cross, and finally at about three in the afternoon, Mr. Burton reappeared. The runaway had nearly reached home, breaking a shoe en route, and his captor had found It necessary to seek a blacksmith. The horse he had rode had evidently never been broken to the saddle, and many had been the jeers of the village boys at his rider's ap- parent mismanagement. All he knew now was that he was ravenously hungry. "And the boys have eaten everything but the bread and crackers," gasped Mrs. Burton. "Tve not oaten a mouthful." " Goodness! " exclaimed Mr. Burton, feeling the boys' waistbelts ; " Didn't they throw anything away ? " " Only down our froats." said Toddie. " Then 111 go to the nearest hotel," said the disap- pointed man, "and get a nice dinner." " We'll go too/' said Budge. " Pie an' cako an' all such things don't fill people a bit on pic-nics." "Q ,t- :■'"'■ ■fP 144 Then I OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. little said Mt'^ST u^^ emptiness wm be best for you " " W li u "^"^ y^'' ^^"'^^^ h^^« ^ith your aunt " Well hurry up then," said Budge. "HeresThe«f ternoon half gone, Aunt Alice says, and you haven't" made us a whistle, or taken us in 8;imminTor let us Tnythi'ng "' " ''""^' ""'^^ ^^""^ ^ ^'^ -^^ ?oVut or ^i^^^L^^ ^-^ his '^"Ti!:tr;^ ^'r^ ti,ei^rail"u.rs.:'e^;,t What «r. you acting so strangely for, boys ? " .ol^hTckl'J Sd Zr^^Cn ^"^'^ ^-^^ -^- ^- JLiy^ ^ ^rii' l"'"" ^"'^ ^^'^ >^"'' that y.^, were his m" xed un if'f^^ T '-^"^^ «»"^f'-rts oughtn't tot mixed up If folks is gom' to gt,t all the good out of 'eni —that's what papa says." ^ ^^ Mrs. Burton kissed both nephews effusively and askod tliem what she could do for them ^' "Idoeknow,"saidToddie. Inspiration, pure and unadulterated, came to Mrs Burton's assistance, and she answered: '* You may both do exactly as you please." Hooray I " shouted Budge. ^kedioSe.'''"'' ^""''" "^ Don't!' a single bit r' " No," said Mrs. Burton. "My !'' exclaimed both brothers, in unison. IJien they clasped hands, and walked slowlv nnd wht^rs"'^- ,T^^^^^^ «tWed to kiss :ach^oth"' while Mrs. Burton looked on in sil«nt ama..m.«fc Wa^ this really the result of not ke"epi'ng 7 watchful OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 145 dreiT?^ ^^^g^^ ^ye> her husband termed it— upon chil- The boys still rambled quietly aV.n-, and finally sat dojn upon a large rock, put their arms around each other and gazed silently at the scenery. They sat there until their uncle returned, and their aunt pointed out the couple to him Then the adults insensibly foUowed the example set by the juvenUes, and on the banks of the river sweet peace ruled for an hour, until old Sol, who once stood still to look at a fight, but never paused to contemplate humanity, conquered by the tender influences ot nature, warned the party that it was time to return. It s tinie to go, boys," said Mr. Burton, with a sigh, .u ^he,^«r<^s snapped the '^i-i^ible thread that had held the children m exquisite ivity, and they were boys again m an instant, thou^a not without a wistful glance at the J^iden they were leaving. "Now, Uncle Harry," said Budge, "there's always one thing that's got to be done before a picnic an' a ride IS just right— an' that is, for me to drive the horses " " An' me to hold the whip," said Toddie. K ^1^P\ ^ ^J!'"'^/??'''^ ^^'^^ y*^"^ whole duty to-day, both of you, said Mr. Burton, instinctively griping his lines more tightly. ^ ^ ^ "But we don't," said Budge, " an' we know. Goin' wp the mountain papa always lets us do it, an' he says the horses always know the minute we take 'em in hand " 1 should'nt wonder," said Mr. Burton. "Well here's a hill— take hold ! " Budge seized the reins, and Toddie took the whip from its socket. The noble animals at once sustained their uiustcrs statement for they began to prance in a manner utterly unbecoming quiet family horses. Mrs Burton 146 OTHER PEOPLW8 CHILDREN. clutched her husband's arm, and Mr. Burton prudently laid his own hand upon the loop of the reins The crest of the hill was readied, Mr. Burton took the reins from the hand of his nep .ew, but Toddie made one final clutch at departing authority by giving the off horse a spirited cut. Tom Lawrence would never own a horse who needed even a touch of the whip, though that em- blem of authority always adorned his carria<^e When therefore, this unfamiliar attention greeted them the horse who was struck became gloriously indignant and his companion sympathized with him, and the heils of both animals shot high in the air, and then, at a pace which nothing could arrest, and they themselves were powerless to arrest, the horses dashed down the rockv rugged road The top of a boulder, whose side had been cleanly washed lay m the path of the carriage, and Mr Burton gave thq opposite rein a hasty twist about his hand as he tried to draw to the side of the road. But what was a boulder that equine indignation should regard It? Ihe stone was directly in front and inline of the wheels. Mrs Burton prepared for final dissolution bv clasping her husband tightly with one arm, while with the other she clutched at the reins ; the boys started the negro hymn "Oh, de rocky road to Zion," the wheels struck the ooulder, four people described parabolic curve, m air, and ceased only when their further progress was arrested by some bushes on the roadside, while the car- nage righted Itself, and was hurried home by the horses while a party of pedestrains, two of whom were ver^ merry and two utterly reticent, completed their lournev on foot pausing only to bathe scratched faces at a brook- side. And when, an hour later, two little boys had been in utter solitude orenanna fnr bed inH ^u-^:^ ^ J. '- . i- q — * »^cu, aim mciF ouinporarv guardians were alternately laughing and complaining •■ )rudently took the nade one oflf horse 1 a horse that em- When, lem, the ant, tind heels of b a pace ves were le rocky, lad been and Mr. bout his d. But i regard e of the ition by ile with rted the ! wheels c curve* 'ess was the car horses, re very journey L brook- id been iporary laining , '■ OTHER PEOPLWS CHILDREN. 147 And another voiro shouted : "An' letsh take more lunch wif ii<» l-^h^ k. pi hungry all day long ! " "' ^^^^ '^^^^^^ ^^f"» CHAPTER VIII. Y^NLY three more days," soliloquized Mrs. Burton Y^.n/.h'^^'"' ^'P"'^"'" «^ ^^^ husband for New -and a long-life sense of dXtT &br.tht"rB; childish affairs long enough to impress them with Wr sense_and better ways. But I diM take thim inX and I W talked, and oh-st«pidest of wome^-^Ko blundered upon my husband for my prinS h^^^^^^ He does get along with them better thL I do^nrlT exasperating thing about it is that he seems to do^l without the shghtest effort. How .-. it ? Tll^^ Xt^^ hxm, unna mm, sit by the roadside for an hour before tram time just to catch the first glimpse of him wht J 148 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. —am 1 giowiii so softly ? Have you been listening? Don't you know It is very impolite to listen to people when thev're not talking to you 1 Why, where are your shoes and stock- ings ? " Why," said Budge, " I took 'em off so's to get some cake for a little tea-party without makin' a noise about It ! Yo\x say our little boots make such an awful racket ' But say, why don't vou ?" " Why don't I wliat ?" asked Mrs. Burton, her wliole BB OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 149 train of thoughts whisking out of sight at lightning speed. " Why don't you always look like you did a minute ago ? If you did, I wouldn't play or make trouble a bit. I'd just sit still all the time, and do nothin' but look at you." " How did I look, Budge ? " asked Mrs. Burton, tak ing the child into her arras. "Why, you looked as if— as if -well, I don't 'zactly know. You looked like papa's picture of Jesus's mamma does, after you look at it a long time an' nobody is there to bother you. I never saw anybody else look that way 'xcept my mamma, an' when she does it I don't ever say a word, else mebbe she'll stop." " You can have the cake you came for," remarked Mrs. Burton. . " I don't want any cake," said Budge, with an im- patient movement. "I don't want any tea-party. I want to stay with you, an' I want you to talk to me, 'cause you're beginnin' to look that way again." Here Budge nearly strangled his aunt in a tight embrace, and kissed her repeatedly. " You darling little fellow," asked Mrs. Burton, re- turning his caresses, " Do you know why I looked as I did ? I was wondering why you and Toddie loved your Uncle Harry so much better than you did me, and why you always minded him and disobeyed me." Budge was silent for a moment or two, then he sighed and answered : " 'Cause." " Because of what ? " asked Mrs. Burton. " You would maire mc vcr}' happy if you were to explain it to me." '' Well," said Budge, '"cause you're different." " But Budge," argued Mrs. Burton, " I know a great "7"^ 150 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. many people who are not like each other, but 1 love them equally well." !!?r^^J^^"^^°^^^^ ^"' *""^«' ar^ they?" asked Budge. A -1' . IJ^'^^ ^'^- ^"^*o" > " bu<^ what has that to do with it ? " And they're not folks you have to mind, are thev ? " continued Budge. "N- ^110," said Mrs. Burton, descrying a dim light ataroff, and looking intently there as if to see more of it. Do they want you to do things their way ? " ask.d " Some of them do," replied Mrs. Burton. " An' do you do it 1 " continued the little questioner. "Sometimes I do." " You don't unless you want to, do you ? " " No," said Mrs. Burton, promptly. " Well, neithei5 do I," said Budge. " But when Ui -jle Harry wants me to do something, why somehow or other 1 want to do It myself after a while. I don't know why, Out 1 do. An I don't always when- you tell me to. I iove you ever so much when you ain't tellin' me things, but when you are, then they ain't ever what I want to do. That s all I know 'bout it. 'Xcept, he don't want me to do such lots of things as you do. He likes to see us enjoy ourselves ; but sometimes I think you don't. We can t be happy only our way, an' our way seems to be like Uncle Harry's, an' yours ain't." Mrs. Burton mused, and gradually her lips twitched back to their natural lines. . " There— you're stoppin' lookin' that way," said Budge, sighing and straightening himself. " I guess I do want the cake an' the tea-party." " iJon'e go, Budgie dear," exclaimed Mrs. Burton, clasping the boy tightly. " When any one teaches jou ! ^> OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 151 b 1 love 1 Budge. } that to they?" im light »re of it. " ask d tioner. nUi ^.le )r other w why, 3 to. I things, rt^ant to 't want 3 to see don't. Jems to i^itched Budge, o want burton, les jou ' f Jht anything that you want very much to know, doesn't it make you happy ? " " Oh, yes — lots," said Budge. " Well, then, if you try, perhaps you can teach Aunt Alice something that she wantc very much to know." "What!" exclaimed Budge. "A little boy teach a grown folks lady ? My ! I guess I'll stay." " I want to understand all about this difference between your Uncle Harry and me," continued Mrs. Burton. " Do you think you minded him very well last summer?" " That's too long for me to remember," said Budge. " But I didn't ever mind him unless I wanted to, or else had to, an' when I had to an' didn't want to, I didn't love him a bit. I just talked to papa about it when we got back home again, an' he said 'twas 'cause Uncle Harry didn't know us well enough, an' didn't always have time to find out all about us. Then they had a talk about it — papa and Uncle Harry did— in the library one day. I know they did 'cause I was playin' blocks in a corner, an' I just stopped a-playin' an' listened to 'em. An' all at once papa said, ' Little pitchers ! ' an' said I'd oblige him very much if I'd go to the store and buy him a box of matches. But I just listened a minute after I went out of the room, until I heard Uncle Harry say he'd been a donkey. I knew he was mistaken about that, so I went back an' told him he hadn't ever been any animals but what's in a menagerie, an' then they both laughed an' went out walkin', an' I don't know what they said after that Only Uncle Harry's been awful good to me ever since, though sometimes I bother him when I don't mean to." Mrs. Burton released one arm from her nephew and rested her head thoughtfully upon her hand. Budge looked up and exclaimed : , "•■ t^tl<.l^^<— fc»v^. 152 OTHER PEOPLES CHILDREN. look so r ^ ^""^^ y°^ ^^^* of lots when you Mrs. Burton recalled some evidence of «n.i, partite, ^/d^VoTvZtMT ^'«'"^- The tea- eat up all the stlTyZrZIZ t "if "*" *'" ' •"«• »'> was u. too to ^4^:fX^u^lZX-^''' ''"' Asked Mi B LS "'"T *^"'/"" "'"'»' ">™. Budge?" „g,., '''*• ^"rtou. 'Is a tea-party worth more than ou your'l„rida;rTo7;survo?rT'^ spoiled last week than ours, but then yVtelini^W'^ """f "»«"• too, an' I haven't criid a bit"^ '"^«''"'' *''»" «'«' to^"d'!r°Fo?:„ct'thT*i ""'' --."-'""y -able ouly time, an adult was plldTn tl"*^ '"'^f'^ "TS'' "- and had eyes with wh^h t!f I ?u */ P,*!?"'"" "^ » ehild, or mentel, had beeim the boH *''»V'"'''"«'*^' Pl^y^ieal for the eh Idren Th^ wl " "'^ ""^^ "''''er efforts grew more humilia^rthe" Cer^tt tf """^ «"!' '''''' was, perhaps to banish it tb.^^l was presented. It brought from aelosetin tV^f- " ""^ ^'""^ ''e'' d'air, of the coveted cake „„Hr ^"""S''""" » eouple of pieces "It i^'™ ? A ' " S"^"' °"e to each hoy 8«vin„ . Itisn.„,atAu„t Alice cares so much for l7e;c1.ie. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDHEN. \ 53 excepting at their r^SL'^tl^Vhe:!::!^^^^^^^^^^^ who were once happy little chilH™,, k!? ^ i '^""'''^ very cro«. all the ^ ^L^tt^^^^^'J^lf^y ^: "Oh 'iS^^^^^'f^K' '"'S''*^ Toddie. v^n, yes ! exclaimed Biido-p «' Ar,' „^., • , 2 Aunt Alice ; perhaps yoXlook^tLt'lVvTl"'''' " ril7»in ■!" ^J"^' gentleman," sr.i.l Bndge. auntlLde '^' ^"^ ^'"'''■''' ""<* ^""^ '"'y^ ''"'•ri'^d to their "Little boys," said Mrs. Burton, gently " do vou know that your mamma and vo„r n-» i-!^ ao you know price for the fun you hav^e n k^;£r„;;;I''du's"t T't" V^'^ your clothes; they must be sent 'to';^.tSJer-s''b:fo?: 154 OTHER PEOPLE'S GHILDHEN. they will ever again be fit to wear where respectable people can see you." " Then," said Budge, " they're just right to give to poor little boys, and just think how glad they'll be. I guess they'll thank ho Lord 'cause we run in the dust." ** The poor little boys, would have been just as glad to have had them when they were clean," said Mrs. Burton, '*and the kindness would have cost your papa and mamma no more." " Well, then — then — then I guess we'd better talk about somethinfr else," said Budge, "an' go 'long froo the woods instead of in the road. Oh — h — h ! " continued Budge, kicking through some grass under the chestnut- trees by the roadside, "here's a chestnut! Is it chest- nut-time again already ? " " Oh, no, that's one of last years's nuts," said Mrs. Burton. " H'm ! " exclaimed Budge ; I ought to have known that ; it's dreadfully old fashioned." " Old-fashioned ? " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. " Why, yes ; it's full of wrinkles, don't you see ? like the face of Mrs. Paynter, an' you says she's old-fashioned." " Aunt Alice," said Toddie, " birch-trees izh the only kind that wearzsh Sunday clothes, ain't they ? Theyzh always all in white, like me and Budgie, when they goes to Sunday-school. Gwacious ! " exclaimed Toddie, as he leaned against one of the birches and examined its outer garments. " Thezh Sunday trees awful— i\\\^\\ one is singin' a song ! Dzust come — hark ! " Though somewhat startled at the range of Toddie's imagination, and wondering what incentive it had on the present occasion, Mrs. Burton apprcached the tree, and *"''^* »'«»^ "Vow-ij "J iitciiiii^ ulic DicciC Sigliillg HUil(iy through the branches. Then she told Toddie what caused f J i spectable • give to 11 be. I le dust." s glad to Burton, fipa and ter talk froo the ^ntinued ihestnut- it chest- aid Mrs. 3 known B 1 like liioned." the only Theyzh ley goes ie, as he ts outer L one is roddie's 1 on the ree, and g softly t caused OTIIL'R PEOPLE'S CniLDREN. 155 the sound, and the young man replied : " Oh ! Then it's the Lord come down to sing in it, 'cauzh it's uot Sunday clothes on. Thatsh it, izhn't it ? " "Oh, no, Toddie; the wind is only the wind," said Mrs. Burton. " Why /always fought it wazh the Lord a-talkin' when the wind blowed. I guesh somebody tolded mo so, 'cauzh I fought that before I had many uvver finks." " Up the mountain-road leisurely sauntered Mrs. Bur ton, while her nephews examined every I^'^^^e stone, boulder, tree and hole in the ground en rode. This pas- sion for investigation was finally rcwark^^, for, Toddie poked a stick into a hole at the root o^ i' trot', v little snake came out, and seemed disposed to def. i i Lis domi- cile. Toddie ran shrieking to his aunt, while Budge be- laboured the reptile vigorously with his own stick until it was dead. " Ah— h— h— h ! " screamed Toddie. '♦ The hateful ting ! Why don't snakesli come an' offer little boysh apples, like that one did in Adam's garden, 'stead of scarin' 'em most to defF? " " Because snakes don't like little boys to bother them," said Mrs. Burton, trying to comfort the frightened child. " If he would only teach me to run alonjr the ground on my tummick like he does, I wouldn't care," said Tod- die. " Why don't he get dirty when he runs ? See how clean an' white he is along the bottomest side of him. I wiss we'd asked him how he keeps so clean 'fore Budirie killded him." ^ " Why, snakes can't talk, Toddie ? " said Mrs. Burton. "Can't they?" asked Toddip, " Tl>at did." garden-snake 156 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. (I 1 if "//e was somebody else— Satan was in him," said Mrs. Burton. " Did he get inside of the snake, so's to play in the dust wifout gettin' his clothes dyty ? " asked Toddie " S^' 1?^ ^^^ ^^ *^ ^^^^ trouble," said Mrs. Burton. Shouldn't fink he'd loard to make any crubble," said loddie, " when he could have such fun wrigglin' around ! " The top of the hill was gained at last, and, with a long-drawn « Oh ! " both boys sat down upon stones and gazed in delight at the extended scene before them. Budge at last broke the silence by asking : T>u-ir "'^^ f ^if ' >i wifout no cross man's comin' up an' sayin', ' Don't ! said Toddie. Mrs. Burton tried again : '^ "Just see how high that bird is flying," said she, point- ing to a hawk who was soaring far above the hill. " Yes," said Budge. " He can go up into heaven when ever he wants to, can't he, 'cause he's got wings. I don't know why birds have got wings and little boys haven't." " Little boys are already hard enough to find when they're wanted," said Mrs. Burton. " If they had wings they'd be always out of sight. But what makes you little boys talk so much about heaven to-day ? " " Oh, 'cause we're up so much closer to it, I suppose," said Budge, " when we're on a high hill like this." *' Don't you think it must be nearly lunch-time 1 " asked Mrs. Burton, using, in despair, the argument which has seldom failed with hungry children. " Certainly," said Budge. " I always do. Gome on Tod. Let's go the shortest way." The shortest way was by numerous short cuts, with which the boys seemed perfectly acquainted. One of these, however, was by a very steep incline, and Budge, perhaps snuffing the lunch afar off, descended so rapidly It Mn 158 OTHER PEOPLE\S CHILDREN. that he lost his balance, fell forward, tried to recover SwhichSl'"' f t^"' ''^ ^'"'""-^h - "™' path wh ch finally ended in a gutter traversing it. un oiJ ; .^^"^fl^^ ^^? y«"ng «^an» as he picked himself up, and relieved himself of a mouthful of mud " Did you see my back come up an' me walk down the moun- of himseTf'ioT"'. ' ' '^^"^ " ^"^^^ "«"^^ be ashTed o himself to see how easy it was. I didn't try a bit-I just went slip, slop, bunk ! to the bottom." eithel^ " s^aid ^t^A' ^'\ff^'^ !^' ^ytyin' your clothes, lehelyah.-' ' ^'*' ''"^ '^^^^J^' ^^^1^' Hal- The subject of dirt upon juvenile raiment becjan to trouble the mmd of Mrs. Burton. Could it be possible tha children had a natural right to dirtier clothi^^ hi nt sinful rw'lf '"'"T^ 'P^'^^^ ^^^"^^ ' Was°dirti- ness sintul ? Well, yes— that is, it was disgusting and whatever was disgusting was worse in the eyes of Mrs TduUsV H J^f "'!r"^"/- ^^^.^^ ^^^^^^^» be neat as adults ? Had they either the requisite sense, perception or the acquired habit of carefulness ? Again Mrs Burton went into a study of the brownest descrfption whUe he aSrts Z'hT' t".""T/f« of preo'ccupation to do all sorts of things which would have seemed dreadful to their aunt but were delightful to themselves. Atlength however, they reached the Burton lunch-table, and nfan- aged a^series of rapid disappearances for whatever was "Aunt Alice," said Budge, after finishing his meal ^' What are you going to do to make us happ^ this S " 1 think," said Mrs. Burton, "I si 11 allow you to rh^''h!tf """"n"'- ^'¥^ b^ quite busy superintending the baking. Our cook has only lately come to us. you know, and she may need some help from me " " OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 159 3 recover L narrow t. i himself . "Did le moun- ashamed a bit — I clothes, ly, Hal- egan to possible iig than as dirti- ig, and of Mrs. neat as ception Burton lile the n to do iful to length, I nian- er was meal, I after- '^ou to inding i, you " I foujj;ht bakin's wazh alwayzh in mornin's ? " re- marked Toddie. " My mamma says that only lazy peoplesh bakesh in affernoonzh." " The cook was too busily engaged otherwise this morn- ing, Toddie," said Mrs. Burton. " Besides people bake mornings because they are compelled to ; for, when they pui. bread to rise overnight, they must bake in the morn- ing. But there is a new kind of yeast now that lets us make our bread whenever we want to, within a couple of hours from the time of beginning." " Do you know, Aunt Alice," said Budge, " that we can bake ? We can — real nice. We've helped mamma make pies an' cakes lots of times, only hers are big ones an* ours are baby ones." " I suppose I am to construe that remark as a hint that you would like to help me /" said Mrs. Burton. " If you will do only what you are told, you may go to the kit- chen with me ; but listen — the moment you give the cook or me the least bit of trouble out you shall go." '* Oh, goody, goody ! " shouted Toddie. " An' can we have tea-parties on the kitchen-table as fast as we bake our fings 1 " " I suppose so," said Mrs. Burton. " Come on, come on ! " exclaimed Toddie. *' My hands won't be still a little, I wants to work so much. How many kindsh of pies is you goin' to make 1 " " None at all," said Mrs. Burton. " Gwacious ! " exclaimed Toddie. " I shouldn't fink you'd call it bakin'-day then. Ishn't you goin' to make noffin' but ole nasty bread *? " " Perhaps I can find a way for you to make a little /.qVp onrna Kiina aa\T " rornarlrprl Mrs Rurt.nn rp.lftnt.ino'. " Well, that would be kind o' bakin'-day like ; but my hands is gettin' still again awful fasht." 160 r 'I '0 OTHEH reoPLM-S OBItDRm. P.imt.on of the staff of Hfe wl ^ '""=^"' ""^ th« pre- "-•tli such assistance as a llTn . ''"S"" ''3' ""e new cook each eIbo«., and t^o inVuTrii 1 '^'^^^^ "'o^ely .'S ''^y^^flY^f the^bread-pam "^ ' '""^"^ "''^^ "'^ ainWarpottS^^^^ Bndge. "She Wlien tea biscuits soes in tl^ ""'^ '" tea-biscuit." of ft>t finp," remarkerToddie-"r "1!^, > ""'e bits flat fi„„s but when they come, ^, 'u*^!'' '""'^ Wte of 'at. What »j«,V, -e^ hake big r "''^^^ ^"'''"l big an' ton 'J.^^l^^ttttt Z"', ■" ^"j:-" -^ «- B- f«r the powder. Bridge^ Jutt w::i''''''S^ '^ " ''^^en't -|a i.tt,e„f the ^o^ rthrt/sTaVhrS as possible under the rot; HF' "^T ""^es as neSy prushed, and they supe,5nt»Lrj.K "''""'' 'he sugar wi^ ■t into the dougC an^d then £ 'p! ?«'-f '■"><>' -orkT,^ small pans in the centre rf^i • i ?" found some very buns which they were thern eW ""''n"'" ^"^^ P"' sinSe happy .nspiration came t„ ^1''"^'^ ^ ^^ape. ^^A lew raisms from the nantrv f /"f °" '' ^ho brought a centre of each tiny bun atif^'' ^l"^^^ »"« upon the by a dnal shriek ^f deiigl ""' "'"'<''»<' ^-asreCrded Stop, TodrliA I " ^^ 1 . noticing^Toddie :S'^:Lt^^"'''"' «"ay, Aunt Alice," he continued, his good nature returniog,, " now fix on that tea-party wt was goin to have wif our own fings. You cm come to the table wif us if you Wii^iit to." '^ Only don't you think she ought (o Uma^xm^^Mx^ with her % " asked Budge. " That's th.^ wa v littlo boys' tea-parties out of doors always aie ? " Mrs. Burton herself rendered a sati^f^ictory decision upon this question by making a Bmali pitcher of lemon- ade : tiie table was drawn as near the door as possible to avoid the h(..H of the room ; Budge escorted his aunt to the seat of honour, and, when all were seated, he asked : ^ ' "Do you think these is enough things to ask ablessin' over ] Sometimes we do it, an' sometimes we don't cordin to how much wt've got." ' Mrs. Burton rapidly framed a small explanatory lecture onthe prmciple underlying the custom of grace at meals : but, whatever may have been its merits, the boys never had an opportunity of judging, for suddenly a loud report, like the shot of a gun, startled the party, a piece of the stove flew violently across the room and broke a^^ainst the wall, the stove-lids shivered violently and the doors fell open, the poker, which had lain on the stove, danced fmufcically, and a small pan of some sort of fat—such as some cooks have an insane fancy to be always doing some- thmg with, but never do it— was shaken over, and if« burning contents began to diffuse a sickening odor. The cook dropped upon her knees and crossed bf^rself • the I, I OTHER PEOPLE'S GBtLDREN. 163 I, yujiy aro.-c, oudge roaring, Toddie screaming, and Mrs. BurWn yiMj pale, while the cook remarked : " Kolly Mither ! The wather-back's busted ! " Mrs. Burton disengaged herself from her tightly-cling- ing nephews, and approached the range cautiously. There wai no sign of water, and the back of the range was un- disturbed ; even the fire was not disarranged. '* It isn't the water-back," said Mr;^. Burton, " nor the fire. What could it have been 1 " " An' I belave, mum," said the cook, " that 'twas the dhivil, savin' yer prisince : an', saints presarve us ! I've heerd at home as how he hated these new ways of cookin', because there was no foine place for him to sit in the corner of, bad luck to him ! It was the dhivil, sure, mum," repeated the cook, crossing herself again. " Did iver ye schmell the loike av that ? " Mrs. Burton snuffed the air, and, sure enough, in spite of the loathsome odor of burning grease, she detected a strong sulphurous smell. " An' he went and tookted my last bun wif him too," complained Toddie, who had been cautiously approaching the oven in which he had placed his pan. " Dad ole debbil ! I fought he didn't have noffin but roasted jweo^/es at hizh tea-parties ! " The whole party was too much agitated and mystified to pursue their investigations further. The fire was al- lowed to die out, Mrs. Burton hurried upstairs and to the front of the house with the children, while the cook craved and received permission to make an immediate call on her spiritual adviser. Mr. Burton, on his way home, was met by his wife and nephews, and heard a tale which had now reached blood- curdling proportions. His descent to the scene of the disaster was reluctantly consented to by his wife ; but \i >■■■■ 164 OTHm PEOPLKS CHtLDttEN he was unable to discover the cause of the accident and he succeeded m getting his hands most shockingly dirty He hurried to his bed-chamber to wash them, and Tmo- ment after he roared from the head of the stairs" " IZl which of you have been up here to-day ? " ^ ' shoTS: N'tr.''"^'"" '^^ ^ "^-^"^^ ^^- ^-^S^ wh^I'fh^''"^''" ^'^^^l'* enquiringly at Toddie, noting which the young gentlemen averted his eyes. Then Mr f«rr a^wT^^r"^'"^^^' *««^«d at both boys Td Sier ^'" «^eddlewithmypowder-flJskfor, « Why-why- why," stammered Toddie, "Aunt Alice wouldn't put no powdeHn my buns to make 'em Hght after I rolled 'em heavy-said 'twouldn't do 'em no gold But my papa says tain't never no harm to try so I dzust wented and gotted some powder out of your brass bottle that s hanging on your gun, an' I didn't say nuffin' to no- body, cauzh I wanted to s'prise 'em. And whX I was It. Guesh it must have been real good else he wouldn't have tookted it, 'cauzh he's such a Imart fief he can tea the nicest fings he wantsh-whole cake-shop windows "How did you mix it with the dough?— how muoh did you take ?" demanded Mrs. Burton "Didn't mixsh it at all," said Toddie, "dzust pourded It on the pan azh full azh I could. You'd fink ?'dX;. to If you tried to eat one of my buns that didn't have no powder in Gwacious ! waanH they hard ? I couldn't bite em a bit-I dzust had to swallow 'em whole." " Umph ! growled Mr. Burton. - And do you know w.iv VX.TJ ucTn — i,ne avitv uevn was that '^ " Harry ! " remonstrated Mrs. Burton. OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 165 •" Well, my dear the truth appears to be just this : your nephew " '' Your nephew, Mr. Burton." " Well, my— our nephew, put into the oven this after- noon about enough of gunpowder to charge a six-pounder shell, and the heat of the oven gradually became too much for it." Toddie listened to this conversation with an air of anxious enquiry, and at last timidly asked : "Wazhn'tit the right kind of powder? I fought it wazh, 'cauzh it makes everyfing else light when it goezh off." o & b "Do you suppose your method of training will ever prevail against tliat boy's logic, my dear?" asked Mrs. Burton. " And if it won't, what will ?" "I won't put so much in nexsht time," said Toddie, " 'cauzh 'tam't no good to try a fing an' then have the tryin' stuff go an' take the fing all away from you an' get so mad as to break stoves to bits, an' scare little boysh an' Aunt Alishes most to deff." CHAPTER IX. THE beginning of the end," was the remark with which Mr. Burton broke a short silence at his breakfast-table, on the last day of the time for which his little visitors had been invited. Mrs. Burton looktMl meek an nade no reply. 111 166 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. in " Budders," said Mr. Burton, addressing his nephews, " do you feel reconstructed 1 " " Huh ? " asked Budge. " Do you feel mentally and morally reconstructed 1 " repeated the uncle. " Reconwhichted 1 " asked Budge. " That's an awful big wyde," ^.ord) remarked Toddie, tlirough a mouthful of oatmeal pc rridge. " It's like what the minister says in chych soriietimes, an' makes me want to play around in the seat.'* " Reconstructed— made over again," explained Mr. I)urton. "Why, no," said Biidge, after looking at his hands and feeling for his stomach, as if to see if aiiy radical physical change had taken place without his knowledge. " May- be we're a little bigger, but we can't soe ourselves where we grow. " Don't you feel as if you wanted to see that baby sister again ?" asked Mrs. Burton, endeavouring to change the subject. " Don't you want to go back to he'^ and stay all the time ? " "/don't," said Toddie, " 'cauzh there a' 't no dog at our house, an' tryin' to catdi dogs is fun, 'ce^^ 6 when they never want to be catched at all, like Jerry is such lotsji of the time.'* " I mean, haven't you learned since you've been here to be a great deal better than j'^ou ever were before ? '■ asked Mr. Burton, cruelly oblivious to his wife's evident desire. " I gicesh so," remarked Toddie. " I'zhe said mor prayersh an' sung more little hynuis than I ever did ;.: all mv lifiP! hfifnrp An' T nn't r^nllp.l nflP on" tt""**" Im-^^J hoppers from grasshoppers sinsh Aunt Alice told me it wazh bad. I only pulls off front hoppers now. They'zlj ^ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 167 real little, you know— there's only a little bittie of them to feel hurted." "How is it with you, Budge?" asked Mr. Burton. " Do you feel as if you had learned to act from different motives? " " What's a motive ? " asked Budge ; " anything like a /ow motive ? I never feel like tlum, 'xcept when I run pretty hard ; then I puff like everytliing, only steam don't come out of me. An' then I always think there's an engine inside of me, goin' punk ! punk! like everything. Papa says it's onl> a heart— a little bit of a boy's heart, but if that's all, I should think a big man's heart could pull a whole train of cars." " You haven't learned to bear in mind the subject of conversation, aiiyhow. But have you become able tq comprehend the . ler significance of things ? " " Things inside jf us, do you mean ? " asked Budge. " Like oatmeal p( , -idge ? " suggested Toddie. " Have you real ^ a that a master mind has been exr erting a reformatory infli; -^e upon you ?" " T?h maker mind an mst mind ' the same fing 1 " asked Toddie. " We wasn't doiii' notfin' 'cept eatin' our brekspups. Don't see what we's got to mind about." " Huv^e you always unhesitatingly obeyed your aunt's commands, moved thereunto by a sense of ler superiority by divine right ? " "Now, Harry ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, who had during all this cqnversation been making mute appeals which lier husband could not have resisted had he seen them, and knowing of the existence of which he had care- fully k«^pt his eyes averted from the lady's face. " If you don't stop tormenting th-jse poor children with stupid sections of dictionary you shall realize my superiority by divine right, for I'll t^ke them upstairs and away from you," ^ ^ im If 168 OTHP.R PEOPLES CHILDREN. "and rn hZT ^"'f ^"' ^y ^^^'' «^id -^»' Burton, and 1 11 have done. I want only to ask the bovs if they've noticed any conflicts of hereditary and if so which side have triumphed ?" ^' ' ' reltoSy." '''''''' '' ^''' P"^^^^^' "^« Tod said," " Oh ! " said Mr. Burton, blushing a little under a mei^ry laugh from his wife. " Well, 'how' does Al ^„nl* ""^^^ r- ^^'^ ^'^^ ^ ^° i» church when I wished Sunday-school time would hurry up " said P Xa " Me too," remarked Toddie ^ ^' "^^^^ 8eeinl7hnrfr"v?u ^ '''"^ f^'"^' °°^'" «*i^ Mrs. Burton, seeing that tJie children's plates were empty Ihe boys departed, the dog Jerrv annarpnflv loo^;« Mr^Burton tlh'^r humiliated me before t/^em," said *non TerC " ^''^ P°"' ^'' '^''^'"""' '"'^ ever peculiar to the conjugal relation, and said : « Oh"dii*^S'^ ?"'"'' ',''?y ''''^'''' "nderstand." «11 S ' r u J ■'"'? ' ««la>nied Mrs. Burton. « T wish all my adult friends had as quiclc perceptions as tSe anTioo£':j;:„r;hVo™t??' "'^ "»^'''' •>»' 'o- fro^TlI^r';.^.^"-- ^"'«"' "*^y — 'y looked up »e like m\?*We 7:;jr„*T;f ^i'::"^"'^" '"- '"r their intution is siraplf angeui-would 'S l"'^''t ' qualities were also so peS" *' *''"' "*«"' tX OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 169 I m very sorry, then, my dear," said Mr. Burton, temporarily subiugated, ''that I said a word to them and when you ar« ready to kneel upon the stool of re-' pentance 1 11 depart and leave you alone." "You'll have no occasion to go," said Mrs. Burton. I ve confessed already-to them, and a single con- fession 18 enough. I rather like the operation, when, for my reward, I receive sympathy instead of sarcasm." * Again, I ask forgiveness," said Mr. Burton : « and having made a fellow-penitent of myself, can't I have good m return for my evil, and know what a fellow-suf- lerer has learned from experience ? " " Just this," said Mrs. Burton ; " that nobody is fit to care for children excepting the children's own parents." Mr. Burton dropped knife and fork. "My dear," said he, "that's better than an experience —Its a revelation. I always pronounced you a saint iNow you prove that I've always been right " Mrs. Burton regained her pride, and witli it her tempo- rarily absent pleasantness of countenance. ^ " I think," she remarked, " that only one of kindred blood can comprehend an adult " " Unless they are modest enough to go out of them- selves for a httle while," suggested Mr. Burton. Mrs. Burton opened her eyes very wide and dropped her hp a little, but recovered herself enough to finish her sentence by saying : "And I think it is ever so much harder to comprehend children, with their imperfect natures that nevn- develop harmoniously and that can but seldom express then.selves intelligently. " I never noticed that the bovs were at a loss fn o^. press themselves whpu they wanted q,nything," said Mr. ! 170 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. That sounds just like a man," saiH Mrs. Burton, fully ^herself again. " As if children had no desires and yearn- ings excepting for material things ! What do you sup- pose It means when Budge sits down in a corner, goes into a brown study, and, when asked what the matter is drawls ■■ ISothmg ! ' in a tone that indicates that a very considerable something is puzzh'ng his young head? What does It mean when Toddie asks his half-funny, liaJt-pathetic questions about matters too great for his comprehension, and looks as wistful as ever after he is f answered? Do you suppose they care for nothing but lood and play ? ' '^ Mr. Burton felt completely humbled, and his looks evinced the nature of his feeling. At last he said • " You are right, little woman. I wish I might have consulted you before I took the boys in hand last Summer " " And I m very glad you didn't," said Mrs. Burton : tor— for you did a great deal better witli them than you could have done if I had then been vour adviser. Ihere is some of the same blood in both of "you, and you succeeded m many points where I have blundered. Oh it 1 had but known it all before they came ! How much I might have saved them —and myself ! " Mr. Burton hastened to extend to his wife some mute sympathy. " They're going to-day," said Mrs. Burton, finding something in her eyes that required the attention of her kerchief—*' just as I've learned what I should be to them ' ^ 1 hey re ang. Is, in spite of their pranks, and it's always so with angels visits— one never discovers what they are until they spread Iheir wings to depart." " This particular pair of angels can be borrowed for an extra dav. 1 suddo; e. if vnn
  • i^i!- "- fatherThS S B.."£°"'^*? you come to eat peppers 1" asked Mr» "^hTTt '""'"™" rf.^P'"' '^°"'y fr""" their pain""" Why, a boy once told us they was strawberries " 174 OTHSR PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. cried Budge, *' an' to-day we saw a lot where men was spoilin' a garden to build a house, an' we asked em' if we could have 'em, an' they said yes, an' we brought em' all back in a piece of paper, an' didn't bite one of 'em 'cause we wanted to eat 'em all in a little tea-party like gentle- men, and the first one I chewed — ow ! That poor rich man in the fire — I know just how he felt when he begged Abraham to have his tongue cooled with a drop of water." " Poor old rich man didn't have all the fire in hizh mouf, 'spectin' that 'twash goin' to be strawberries," sobbed Toddie. " But there wasn't no dear old Mike to go an get him slippery elm, either,'" said Budge. ** Soon's he come back home to stay, Mike, I'm goin' to put dirt in the stable-pump just to be real good about stoppin'when you tell me to." "An' I," said Toddie, "izh goin' to make you a pre- sent all alone by myseff. I don't know yet what it'll be I guess it'll have to be a 'sprise. What would you like .best — a gold watch or a piece of pea-nut candy ? " Between two presents of such nearly equal value . Michael, the benefactor, found some difficulty in deciding, . and he walked away with that application of his fingers to his head, which is peculiar to many persons when in . a quandary. Meanwhile Mrs. Burton led the children . toward her own house, saying : " What can we do to-day that can be extremely nice, t little boys ? Mamma expects you home to-morrow, and Aunt Alice wants to make your last day a very happy ■ one." " To-morrow ! " exclaimed Budge, apparently oblivious • to all else his aunt had said. " Why, 1 thought we were rtnincf Vinwiii 4-i-\_/-lomr I " -5'- il \.-ili-„ W—JiiX 1 \ f (C So you were, dear," said Mrs. Burton ; " but you i I OTBEB PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 175 didn't seem to be in a hurry, and I. couldn't bear tn lot you go .0 soon Did you ri.lly want to go loZv HI t^^y- ^ '' ^^ "","'''"' ■■"'»'" i' an' coun k' days till to-day ever since we've come," said Budge "somp times It seemed as if I'd burst if I cn,iM>^t iS k . i again ; but I tried to be rla good about it 'n^.^ ""'" re'st'^at '^ "ir r ">^ Vr b^>y aldrmS^ " Why, you poor little boy," said Mrs Rnrf^n of^ ing to kiss B„d|e, ■• why didn't y" teU lu!t 5e whi;; you were so unhappy ? " ^ ^^^^ "You couldn't do me any good," said Bud-e • " nohodv could but my papa or mamma. An' then I doiVt Hke t tell what's hurtm' my heart-somethin' in my throlt makes me hate to tell such things." ^ " Haven't you had a pleasant time at our house ? When you've not been doing whatever you liked haveu't Uncle Harry and I been trjing to make you hap^y ?' ' . "Oh yes,' sighed Budge. "But some folks know just what we like, and some other folks know what thev want us to like ; and the first some folks are m/papa and mamma an' the other some folks are you an' vU^l^^ry. You ve done some real nice things for us, thou-^h an^ r m gom to ask mamma to let us invite you o om^hoZ u? mX^'LtaVy I '' '^^ ^^ ^^'^ '^' of little b^y^ ^n'^ " You come to vizhit at our housh," said Toddie " an' you can have cake between mealsh, an' r)i: k, mud-pi^s whenever you want to, no matter if you.h su your Verv besht clozhezh on. An' I won't ever say ' IJvrS^tJ^ one single time I " ^ ^^(^^i to you " An^ vvm «hali have vour own mamma come every day ,,,,." - ■ ~ ^ — w,,»» ii«.«»inua uuuxtj ever to rohc an' cut up with you," said Bi:dge. - 1 wis had a papa— -we'd have him too ! you. 176 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. " Aunt Alice," said BuvJge, " how do big folks get along without papas and mammas ? " " I don't know, I'm sure dear," said Mrs. Burton, re- membering how helpless she found herself when her hnsband first took her from beneath her mother's wing. " Don't they ever have something to tell 'em, an* then feel like somebody else when they find they ain't there to tell 'em to ? " " I — I suppose some do," said Mrs. Burton, recalling some periods of her own life when she longed for a con- fidant who should be neither lover nor friend. " Don't you think maybe they look all around then, an' think the nicer' things are the lonelier they are ? " continued Budge. " Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Burton, putting a kiss upon the young man's forehead, " Musht be awful not to have anybody to ask for pen- nies when youzh lonesome an' don't know what else to do," remarked Toddie. " An' not to have anybody hold you to keep from kind o' tumblin' to pieces when you've seen enough of every- thing, an' don-i enough of everything, and don't know what's goin' to happen next, an' wish it wouldn't happen at all," said Budge. " Say Aunt Alice, folks don't ever have to feel that wav when they get to be angels, do they ? " " No, indeed," said Mrs. Burton. " Well, do you think it makes folks in heaven happy to have a father — the Lord, you know — where there ain't anything to ask Him for 1 If they're happy the whole time, I don't see when they can think about how nice it is to have a heaven papa. Do little angels ever have to go away from home an' stay a fcvv days, an' not see their father at all ? "Z (( OTHER PEOPLE^s CHILDREN. 1 77 candy stores up in hebben, and do the fX t w I "'^ Bu.^: rorCtir;'«:d'':r; iff'" r"^^^- pair of literalism, yet remembering^^ :SX™„'? '!"'' early morning to have the boys with her thaW„^'^f " Won Idi^t ,> Sf"^- *^°;/°y"'i-g'" asked Toddie ings bank." """f^s" sixty-tour pennies in my sav- p-^tir^yi" rr .rS-« :n;rodrcarf?.s: Lpet/;t leltalTdKiP'^ ^"^ ^ «'"^'« BurtlnHn th"i!:?l1 Z.^^ "^ candy," said Mrs. ourselves right afteriunch.'""""""' ' "** '^'"."""'« « iot 178 m OTHER PEOPLE^S CHILDREN. ^%W I mo'; fomtSg:-' ''"• ^"'"" ■• " •"" - "« -? -»- "/ think we are," said the boy, " when r thinb oV,„.,* what lovely people candy-makers musrbe" *""" nies- worth ?"'' "'" "" "*'" " "'''''' '^'"^'^'«- ^«"> P«»- " Oh, yes ; more thfn two little boys can eat in a dsv " " Gwacious Peter I " exclaimed Toddie " thaf w„Ym be more than a whole candy-store full ! cle on I Don't XV"-«;^ ^"' -' '» -o„rtnm"lS'a".f " I'll bet I can walk faster than ym can, Aunt Alice " " comeTn r" '**'"' """" ''°''' °^ ^""'" ''"'"'"^ toddie ; Ita. Burton declined both challenges, but the boys went rapidly over the course without her, and ran franSw "P.fS^u'^r" ">* P'«^^.» ""*" *eir Aunt j"hem y "What are you goin' to make it in. Aunt like?" shouted Budge, while his aunt was yet a hunSred yards "A saucepan," replied the lady. su^gieTSr "°"'' '' ''''"«'-'- w-hboilersh!" M^Ston.^'Sllvou^;.''""'^ '"■'"'• ^»''«« ' "'-^^ " I— well—I guess you'd better not remind me verv much about it," replied Budge, " else maybe I'll want to What kmd of candy is it goin' to be ? " ' " Molasses," said Mrs. Eiirtnn. ;; iSi^V'^/"^ ^?°f "t" ^h«, sti<^«y ? " asked Toddie. Both, replied the lady, ascending the steps I OTHER PBOPLE-S CBtLDREN. 179 "Oh goody, goody!" exclaimed Toddie cIiitnhiM„,f hisaunt's dress. " I want to kiss you " *='""="'"« »' M / "?"' '° si™ yon an awful big hug." said Budw Mrs. Burton accepted tliese proffered tolTensTesteem to tlie serious disarrangement of her fmlo^ ™ j "i esteem, spent two miserable h^rsTn trying to na/ll^'r'' until lunch-time. The boys ate mVelv'^l'^f. i'" """^l and there was an animated fci'^n ast ttSfTe saucepan to be used, and the boys watched the ZnW the molasses so closely that not a fly dared to »«!/ Then they quarreled for the right to stothf^l. '' until Mrs. Burton was obli..ed to allot therT??''"'"'^' reliefs by the kitchen clockf and sXe ded!reTZ."r turns didn't last more than a second wh^.Tii- ' plained that they occupied two hours 1^1^!''^ Tl to assist at tla, JriticaF operation 7'"''tryin"-J'a'Tthfv consumed what seemed to them Inna \lZ.T ^ M-atching the paste cool itself WhenatTa7 m'^'^r '" rating the smaller portions, " is a piece for eth rf voT^ Budge carefully oiled his fingers as he h»rf 1 ^ u- aunt do, and proceeded cautiously To draw hi candv but Toddle seized his portion with both hands rre/it in sprang at him in an instant. * ^""^^^^ ^fj 180 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. l,Ui " Stop, Toddie, quick ? It may fasten your teeth to- gether so you can't easily open them." Many were the inarticulate noises, all in a tone of re- monstrance, that Toddie made as his aunt forcibly re- moved the mass from his face. When at last he could open his mouth, he explained : " Don't want mine pulled — itsh too awful good the way it izh— you'll pull the good out, Izh 'fyaid." " You boys should have aprons on you," said Mrs. Bur- ■ ton, " Budge, put down your candy, run up-stairs, and ^tell Jane to bring down two of Toddie's aprons." Budge hurried up-stairs, forgetting the first half of his aunt's injunction. 'Eeturning, he had just reached the foot of the main stair, when the door-^rll rang. Hastily putting his candy down, he opened thi di-or, and admitted two ladies who asked for Mrs. Burton, '« I guess she's two busy makin' candy to be bothered by any lady," said Budge, " but I'll ask her. Sit down." Ten minutes later, Mrs. Burton, by a concentration of effort peculiar to woman, but which must ever remain a mystery to man, entered the parlor in afternoon dress, and greeted her visitors. Both rose to meet her, and with one of them rose also a rocking-chair with a cane seat ; this remained in mid-air only an instant, however for the lady's dress had not been designed for the pur- pose of moving furniture, and, with a sharp, ripping sound, like that of musketry file-firing afar off, her skirt soon took the appearance of a train dress, heavily puffed at the waist with fabric of another color. Both ladies endeavored to disengage her, while Mrs. Burton turned pale and then red as she discovered the cause of the accident, while Budge's voice was heard from the doorway, saying : " Aunt Alice, Imva you seen my candy 1 I laid it OTHER P PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 181 way it Hi down somewhere so's to let those ladies in, .'tn' now I can't find it ! " An indignant gesture by Mrs. Burton sent IJudgeaway pouting and grumbling, and the chambermaid was sum- moned, and the visitor's dress was repaired temporarily and the accident was being laughed away, when from i\u kitchen there arose an appalling sound. It was com- pounded of shrieks, yelps, and of a peculiar noise as of something being thrown upon the floor. ^ The noise increased ; there were irregular foot-falls upon tlu; kitchen-stairs, and at last Toddie appeared, dragging by the collar the dog Jerry, from whose fore- feet hung, by a slowly lengthening rope of candy, one of the pans of the unpulled paste. • " I fought if I gived him candy he would be nicer to me," explained Toddie, " so I shased him into a closet, and put the pan up to his nose, an' told him to help his- self. And he stuck his foot in, an' " Further explanation was given by deeds, not words, for as Toddie spoke, the dog kicked violently with his hind feet, disengaged himself from Toddie, and started for the door, dragging and lengthening his sweet bonds behind him upon the tioor. Toddie shrieked and at- tempted to catch him, stepped upon the candy-rope, found himself fastened to the carpet, and burst into tears, while the visitors departed, and told stories, which by the next afternoon had developed into the statement that Mrs. Burton had been foolish enough to indulge her nephews in a candy-pulling in her parlor and upon her new carpet. As for the boys, Budge ate some of his candy, and Toddie ate a great deal of everybody's, and had dif- ficulty in saving a fragment for his uncle. And when he knelt in spotless white to pray that evening he informed Heaven that now he understood what ladies meant when they said they had a real sweet time. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ^ .>;^ 1.0 I.I Uilia 125 2.2 11-25 iu 2.0 1.6 Hwtpgraphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 A ^ iV \\ ^ ■^"l"- V ^ //it V. ^ It 182 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREK. CHAPTER X. " We're goin' home " We're goin' home " We're goin' home |To die no more" SANG Budge through the liall next morning, and ho repeated the lines over and over so many times Uiat they last impressed themselves upon the mind of Toddie, who asked, " Budgie, izh you a-tellin' the troof ? " "What 'bout?" "Why, 'bout not dyin' ; don't little boys hazh to die after gom' to live wif their uncles an' aunts for a little while ? " " Oh, of course they do j but I'm so happy I've got to sing «owethin' ; the front part of it is troof, and that's three times as big as the other part, and I can't think of any other song 'bout goin' home." " fhatsh too baddy," complained Toddie. " I fought vou wazh tellin' the troof, and I wouldn't never hazh to have a lot of dirt on my eyes, so I couldn't look up into the sky." *^ "Why, you won't have to be bothered tbat wny," said Budge. " When you die your spirit goes right up to heaven, an' you can look straight down froo the sky with your wcm; eyes, an' laugh at the old dirt that thinks it's keepm'your old eyes shut up." "Don't wanH no new eyes," said Toddie ; " eyes I've got izh good enough to see fings wif." " But yoii think, Toddie," reasoned Budge, " heaven- eyes can't get dust in 'em, or have to be washed, or be bothered with choo choo smoke." lu ^\ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 183 TVc " Why, can't smoke get in the windows of steam-cars up in hebben 1" asked Toddio. <' Why, of course not," said Budge ; " not if everything's goin' to be all right up there. There ain't no choo-choos in heaven anyhow. What does angels want of choo-choos, I'd like to know, when the've got wings to fly with 1" "Id never want all the choo-choos to go away, even if I had a fousand wingsh," said Toddie. ' 'Twould be such fun to fan niyself wif my wings when I was goin' froo hot old tunnels." " Tunnels can't be hot in heaven," exclaimed Budge ; " 'cause they're uncomfortable, an' nothin' can be uncom- fortable in heaven. I guess there ain't any tunnels there at all. Oh yes ! I guess there's little bits of ones, just long enough to give little boys the fun of ridin' in and ridin* out of 'em." " Well, hows you goin' to ride in an' out if there ain't no choo-choos to pull the cars 1 " Budge reflected and finally replied, " Well, I'll tell you. Tod, 1 guess that's one of the things that the Bible don't tell folks about heaven. You know papa says that there's lots of things the Lord don't let people don't know 'bout heaven ; 'cause it's none of their business, an' I guess that's one of 'em." " Wish there'd be some more Bibles, then," said Tod- die. " I wantsh to know lotsh mo e of fingsh." " Well any how," said Budge, " we're goin' home to- day, an' that fills me so full I ain't got room for the littlest speck of heaven. Wonder who's goin' to take us, an' when we're a-goin', an' ev'ry thing 1 Let's go ask Uncle Harry." "Come on!" exclaimed Toddie, " Izh '.»een finkin awful hard 'bout how to get into his bed-room wifout 184 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 1 know. Hurry up 'fore we for- bein' scolded, an' now gets." Both boys hurried to the family chamber, and assaulted the door with fists and feet. " The overture of the angels," quoted Mr. Burton, and "positively their last appearance." "Don't speak of it," said Mrs. Burton. "I've been crying about it in my dreams, I believe, and I'm in aeon- dition to begin again." " I've a great mind to make Ihem cry," said the man of the house, savagely. " No scrubbing will take the mark of small shoe-toes o,ut of painted wood." " Let them kick to their dear little heart's content," said Mrs. Burton. '♦ Not a mark of that kind shall ever be insulted by a scrubbing-brush. I feel as if I'd like to go about the house and kiss everything they've touched." "You might kiss the sounding board of my violin, then," said Mr. Burton, " where there's an ineffacabie scratch from a nail in Toddie's shoe, placed there on the morning of your birthday anniversary. There's a nice generous blot on the wood of the wiiting-desk, too, where Toddie upset a bottle of violet ink. Would that your kisses could efface the stain that the cabinet-maker says is indelible. Then there are some dingy streaks on the wall beside their btd, where they've lain crosswise and rubbed their heads against the wall. " It shall remain forever," said the lady. "What ! in your darling spare chamber?" asked Mr. Burton. A violent mental struggle showed its indications in Mrs. Burton's face, but she replied, " The furniture can be changed ; we can put a screen in front of the place ; we'll change the room in any way, excepting their blessed tokens of cupation." V \ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 185 But none of this devotion found its way through the keyhole to Hlianie the boys into sih'nce, for i\\v noise in- creased until Mrs. Burton herself hastened to draw the bolt. " It's us," was the unnecessary information volunteered by Budge as the door opened ; *' an' we want to know when we're goin' home, an' who's goin' to take us, an' how, an' what ycu're goin' to give ns to remen.ber you by, an' we don't care to have it flowers like mamma an' l)apa always gives us, 'cause we've got plenty of them at home." " Fruit-cake would be nicesht," suggested Toddio. •• Foil"* 'members that an nvful long time , 'cause when mamma once asked i)apa if he 'membered the fruit cake at Mrs. Birch's party he looked drefful sad, an' said he couldn't ever forget it. Say, Aunt Alisli don't you get extra nice dinners for folks that's goin' awn/ ? Mamma always doesh ; says they need it cauzh folks need to be well-feeded when they'se goin' to travel." [N.B. The disitance from the Burton residence to that of the Law- rences' was about a (luarter-of-a-niile.] " You shall have a good-bye dinner, Todd'e dear," said Mrs. Burton ; " And the very nicest one that I can pre- pare." " Better make it a brepspup," suggested Toddie. " Mebbe we'll be come for 'fore dinnertime." " You shan't be taken until you get it, dear," replied Mrs. Burton. " I 'spects I'll liave an awful good dinner waitin' for us, too, when we get home, said Budge ; " 'cause that's the way the papain the Bible did, an' yet he had only one \\i\v oome home instead of two an' h^%.J bf«n bp,d" " What portion of the Scriptural narrative is that child running into now?" Asked Mrs. Burton. 186 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. " Aunt Alice don't know who you're talking about, Budge," said Mr. Burton. " FiXplain it to her." " Why, that boy that his papa made a dinner out of fat veal for," said Budge ; " though I never could see how that was a very nice dinner." " Worse and worse," sighed Mrs. Burton. " Tell us all about it, old fellow," said Mr. Burton ; " we don't liiiow \/hat you're driving at," " Why," exclaimed Budge, " are you bad folks that don't read your bil3le-books ? I thought every body knew about him. Why, he was a boy that went to his papa one day and told him that whatever he was goin'to give him as long as he lived, he wished he'd give it to him all at once. An' his papa did. My ! wasnH he a lovely papa, though 1 So the boy took the money, an' went travelin', an' had larks. There's a picture about it all in Tommy Bryan's mamma's parlour ; but I don't think its very larkey ; he's just a sittin' down with a whole lot of women actin' like geese all around him. But he had to pay money to have larks, an' he had such lots of 'em that pretty soon he did't have no money. Say, Uncle Harry, why don't people have all the money they wani. 1 " " That's the world's prize conundrum," said Mr. Bur- ton. " Ask me someting easier." " I'm goin' to have all the money / wantsh when I gets growed," remarked Toddie. " How ariB you going to get it ? " asked his uncle, with natural interest. " Goin' to be real good, an* then ashk the Lord for it," said Toddie. " Wonder where the Lord keepsh the lots of nysh fings he's goin' to give good people when they a.shk Him for 'em *? — money and fingR ? " *' Why, in heaven, of course," said Budge. OTBER PEOPLE'S OHILDRBK. 187 " Hazh He got a savings bank an' a toy-store 1 " asked Toddie. " Sh— h — h ! " instructively whispered Mrs. Burton. " He's only talking of what grown people expect, my dear," said Mr. Burton ; " go on, Budge." *• Well, he didn't have apy more money, j»,n' he couldn't write to his papa for some 'cause there wasn't any post- offices in that country, so he went to work for a man, an' the man made him feed pigs, and he had to eat the same things that the pigs ate. I don't know whether he ate them out of a troff or not." " It's a great pity that you are in doubt on that point," said Mr. Burton. '• He could play in the mud like the pigs, too, couldn't he ? " said Toddie ; " his papa was too far away to know about it, an' to say • Don't ! ' at him." " I s'pose so," said Budge, " but I don't think a boy could feel much like playin' with mud when he had to eat with the pigs. Well, he went along bein' a pig-feeder, when all at once he 'membered that there was always enough to eat at his papa's house. Say, Uncle Harry, boys is alike everywhere, ain't they ? " "I suppose so." said Mr. Burton. "Present ccnapany excepted, but what reminded you of it, just now 1 " " Why, he wanted to go home when he couldn't hook enough from the pigs to fill his stomach, an' my pai)a says little boys that can't be found when their mamma wants 'em always start for home when they get hungry. That's what this boy oflF in another country did — papa says the Bible don't tell whether he told the man to get another pig-feeder, or whether he just skooted in a hurry. But, ftlivVinwr Via ct(\\. nr*>ft.v npar Immo n»i' T nrnoaa Via folf aw. ful ashamed of himself an' went along the back road ; for, in the picture of our big Bible-book, his clothes were 188 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. I*' 11; awful ragged an' mussy, an' he must have boon sure he was goin' to get scolded an' wish he could get in the back door, an' go up to his room without anybody seein' him." '* Oh, Harry I " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, " this is grow- ing perfectly dreadful — it's positively sacrilegious." " The application is the only sacred part of the origi- nal, my dear," said Mr. Burton, " and you may trust that boy ♦o discover the point of anything. I wish doctors of divinity were half as quick to do so. Go ahead. Budge." "Well," said Budge, " he was sneakin' along, an, gettin' behind trees an' fences whenever he saw anybody comin', that he knew, when all at once his papa saw him. Papas always can see farther than anybody else, / believe, an' they always kind o' know when their boys are comin', an' they just look as if they'd always been standin' right there waitin' for 'em. An' that pig-feeder's papa ran right out of the house without his hat on — that's the way he is in the picture in the big Bible-book -an' grab- bed him, an' kissed him, an' hugged him so hard that he had to grunt, an' " " An' he didn't say, why how did you get your clozhezh so dyty, eiver 1 " said Toddie. " No, -deed," said Budge. " An' the pig-feeder said he'd been a bad boy, an' he guessed he'd better eat his dinner in the kitchen after that, but his papa wouldn't let him. He put clean clothes on him, an' give him a new pair of shoes, an' put a ring on his finger." "Ringsh ain't good to eat," remarked Toddie. "I fwallowed one once, / did, an' it didn't taste nohow at all. And then I had to take some nasty medshin, an' the ring came «m-fwallowed again." " He didn't give him the ring to eat, you silly boy," said Budge. " Rings squeeze fingers all the time, an' let OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 189 1 sure he 1 the back Bin' him." 3 is grow- 118." the origi- nay trust I wish so. Go m, gettin' \y comiii', m. Papas lieve, an* e comin', 3 in* right papa ran hat's the an' grab- i that he clozhezh eder said Kr eat his wouldn't ve him a die. " I lohow at ishin, an' lly boy,** e, an' let folks know how the folks that give 'em the rings want to squeeze them all the time. Then they killed a whole calf — 'cause the pig-feeder was awful empty, you know — an' they had a jolly old time. An* the pig-feeder's big brother heard 'em all cuttin' up, an' he was real cross about it, 'cause he'd always been good, an' there hadn't ever been any tea-parties made for him. But his papa said, * Oh, don't say a word — we've got your brother back again — just think of that^ my boy.' I'm awful sorry for that big brother, though ; / know how he felt, for when Tod's bad an' I'm good, papa just takes Tod in his lap an' talks to him, an' hugs him, an' I feels awful lonesome, an' wish 1 wasn't good a bit." " And what do you suppose the bad boy's mamma did when she saw him 1 " asked Mr. Burton. " Oh," said Budge, " I guess she didn't say anything, but just looked so sad at him that he made up his mind he wouldn't ever do a naughty thing again as long as he lived, an' after that he'd stand behind her chair whole half-hours at a time just to look at her where she wouldn't catch him at it." " And what do you think that whole story means. Budge 1 " asked Mrs. Burton, determined to impress at least one prominent theological deduction upon har nephew. " Why, it means that good papas can always see when bad boys is real ashamed of themselves," said Budge, " an* know it's best to be real sweet to *em then, an' that papas that can't see, and don't know better than to scold 'em then, needn't ever expect to see their bad little boys come home again." Mrs. Burton started, and her husband lauirhed in- wardly at this unusual application, but the lady recovered herself and returned in haste to her point. 190 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. n " Don't you think it's intended to teach us anything about the Lord ? " she asked. J' *'«»"» 1," ^*'^' r?;." ^. ^""^g^' """^ «°"r«« it is the best of a papas hell be better to his bad children than any other good papas know how to be." But"^***^'^ ^^^**^ *^^ ^'^^^ ^^ "^'"'^"^ ^° '*''*^^'" ®*'^ ^^®- T "^^*'^'- ,^„^h5>"g'^<^ ^^^^y body knew /A«< about the Lord, said Budge. ",?!r^^®^^^*^' •^^^"^ ^^"'•^ "ever have told the story." said Mrs. Burton. ■" "Oh, I s'pose those old Jews had to bo told it," said Budge, « cause folks used to be awful bad to their chil- dren, and believed the Lord would be awful cruel to tJiem " Feople need to be told the same story now, Bud«^e " continued Mrs Burton. " They love to hear it, °and know how good the Lord is willing to be to them " "Do they love it better than to learn how good they ought to be to their children ? " asked Budge. " Th-n I think they're piggish— I wouldn't like n.y papa an' mamma to be that way ; tJiey say that it's gooder to care tor what you can give than what you can get. An' Uncle Harry hasn t told us yet when we're goin' home, and who's goin' to take us." " Your papa is going to come for you as he returns from the city, said Mr. Burton ; « I think he wants to tell you something before you go home ; you little boys don t know yet how to act in a house where there's sick mammas and little babies-" " Oh, yes we do," said Budge. " All we've got to do IS to sit still an' look at 'em with all our mights." " Only dzust dzump up ev'ry two or free minutes to kiss em, suggested Toddle. " Yes," said Budge, " an' to pat their cheeks." « I OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 191 anything e best of tlian any laid Mrs. bout the e story," it," said leir chil- ko tJism. " Budge," it, and )od they * Then I apa an' ' to care ti' Uncle me, and returns rants to tie boys 'e's sick )t to do lutes to " An' to put nice things to eat in their mouths, like papa an' mamma does to us, when we're sick," added Budge. " An' make music for 'em," said Toddie. " An' give 'em pennies," said Budge. " An' shake their savings banks for 'em to make the pennies rattle, like Budge did for me once when I was too sick to rattle my own bank," said Toddie, bestowing a frantic hug upon his brother. " An| put the room to rights for 'em," said Budge. " An* bring 'em in nice mud-pies all ready baked, like I did once for Budgie, to play wif on the bed when he was sick," said Toddie. " An' dance for 'em," suggested Budge. " That's the way I used to do for Baby Phillie, an' it always made him 80 happy." " An' put up pictures on the wall for 'em," said Tod- die : " we's got whole newspapers full that we's cutted out up in your garret . and there's a whole bottle of mu- cilage " " My war file of Frank Leslie's illustrated papers ! " explained Mr. Burton. " How did they find that ? Oh, this cross of love ! " " Whole bottle of mucilage in papa's room to aiick 'em on wif," continued Toddie ; " an' mamma's room is nice pink, like the leaves of my scrap book that pictures look so pretty on." " And these are the child-ideas of being good and use- ful ! " exclaimed Mr. Burton, as the boys forgot every- thing else in the discovery, and consequent quarrel, of their uncle's razor-strop, with an extension at one end. " Yes," sighed Mr. Burton, " and they're not much nearer the proper thing, m spite of their good intentions, than the plans of grown people for the management of 192 OTHKlt PKOPLE'S CHILDREN. children, the reformation of the world, and a great raanv other thijigH." ' "Harry ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, in injured tones. "No personal allusion, my dear," said Mr. Burton, quickly ; " I'd no thought of anything of the kind. Both adults and children mean well enou^ ; the difference is that the former wonder why their ideas are not appre- ciated, while with the children the energies of parents and teachers are devoted to treating mistaken opinions as great sms. How many children could do the kindnesses which Budge and Toddie have devised out of the tender- nesses of their dean little hearts, and not be scolded and whipped for their pains 1 What hosts of children I know who have had all the good blood and kind heart and honest head scolded and beaten out of them, and only the baser qualities of their natures allowed to grow, and these only because in youth many of them are dor- mant and don't make trouble." " Why, Harry, what a preacher you are— what a terri- ble preacher ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burtoi . " Where does the terror come in 1 " asked Mr. Burton, with the signs of that indignation which every man with an idea in advance of his generation must frequently be afflicted by. '' " Why to imply that there's so much injustice being done to children," said the lady. " Of course the saying of it is worse than the fact of Its existence," remarked Mr. Burton, with a curl of the lip. " Please don't speak in that cruel way," said Mrs. Burton ; " it isn't anything of the sort— excepting for a moment or two." Mr. Burton apologized, and restored confidence with- out saying a word, and then the coupL turned instinct- OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDHEN. 193 ively to look for the first causes of their conversation • but the boys were gone. ' " The tocsin of their souls, the dinner-bell— breakfast- bell, I mean -has probably sounded," said Mr. Burton- and I m as hungry as a bear myself. Let's descend' and see what they ve succeeded in doing within five brief minutes." The Burtons found the dining-room, but not the boys and the chambermaid was sent in search of them The meal was slowly consumed, but the boys did not appear " You'd better have the cook prepare something addi- tional, ' suggested Mr. Burton, as he arose and started for his train. " The appetites of the small boy is a principal that accumulates frightful usury in a very sinall while after maturity." Mrs. Burton acted upon her husband's suggestion and busied herself about household affairs for an hour or more until, learning that the boys had not yet arrived she strolled out in some apprehension to search for them Supposing that they might have been overpowered bv their impatience so far as to have gone home at once, she visited the residence of her sister-in-law, and inquired of che faithful Mike. " Dhivil a bit have they been here," replied Michael. Ain t we older eyes sore for the soight ov 'em all the whoile again ? They're nowhere about here, rest ye aisv " «' I'm afraid they may be lost," said Mrs. Burton Mike burst into a prolonged horse laugh, and then recovering himself by sundry contortions and swallow' mgs, he replied, — " Beggin' yez pardon, ma'am, but I couldn't help it— as the blessed Virsrin is smoilin' in bpovon t «.,j,i1_x but them byes can niver be lost. Lost, is it ? Could ve lose a ghost or a bird ? They'll foind their way anywhere 194 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. they've been once ; an' if they haven't been there before they'll belave they have, an' foind their way out all roight. Lave yer boddher till dinner-time, an' mark me wurruds ye'll foind ye've no nade av it. Losht ! " and Mike burst into another laugli that he hurried into the stable to hide, while Mrs. Burton returned to her own home with a mind almost quiet. The morning ended in lunch-time, however, and no small boys appeared at the table. Mrs. Burton's fears came back with increased strength, and she hurried off again to Mike and implored him to go in search of the children. The sight of an ugly-looking tramp or two by the way suggested* the mystery of Charley Ross to Mrs. Burton, and brought some miserable tears to her eyes. Even the doubting Mike, when he learned that the chil- dren had eaten nothing that day, grew visibly alarmed, and mounted one of his master's horses in hot haste. " Where are you going first, Mike ?" asked Mr i. Burton. •' Dhivil a bit do I know ! " exclaimed Mike ; " but I'm goin' to foind 'em, an' may the blessed saints go with me !" Away galloped Mike and Mrs. Burton fearing that the alarm might reach the boys' mother, hurried home, started the cook upon one road, the chambermaid on an- other, and herself took a third, while Mike sought the candy-store, the school-house, sundry bridges over brooks and the various other places that boys instinctively de- light in. Mrs. Burton's own course was along a road leading up the rugged, heavily-wooded hill, called by courtesy a mountain ; but she paused so many times, to call, to hsten, to step considerably out of her way to see if Jimly-descried figures were not those of her ne'^he—- and to discover that what seemed in the forest to be boyish figures were only stumps or bushes, that she spent at least OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 195 •e before out all n' mark Losht ! " 'ied into her own and no I's fears Fried off \\ of the two by to Mrs. er eyes, the chil- larined, ste. Burton, but I'm ;o with ig that i home, I on an- ght the brooks, ^ely de- a road lied by mes, to ' to see ^u boyish at least two hours upon the road, which doubled so many times upon itself. Suddenly she saw on the rugged road beyond her a familiar figure dragging a large green bough. " Budge ! " she screamed, and ran toward him. Tiie little figure turned its head, and Mrs. Burton was shocked to see a very hagged face, whose whiteness intensified the starting eyes, pink, distended nostrils, and thin, drawn lips of her nephew. And upon the bough, holding to one of the upper sprigs tightly with one hand, while with the other he clutched something green and cru led lay Toddie, dust-encrusted from head to foot. " Oh ! what has happened 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. Toddie raised his head antl explained. " Izhe a shotted soldier bein' tookted to where the shooters can't catch me, like sometimes they used to be in the war." As for Budge, he dropped in the road and cried. " Oh, what is it ? " cried Mrs. Burton, kneeling beside Toddie, and taking him in her arms. And Toddie re- pled : " Budge, dear," exclaimed Mrs. Burton, replacing Tod- die, and hurrying to his brother, " what has happened ? Do tell me ! " ^^ Budge opened his eyes and mouth very reluctantly, and replied in a very thin voice : '* Wait till I get alive again, an' I'll tell you. I haven't got many words inside of me now— they're all dropped out, I'm so tired, and oh " Budge closed his eyes again. Mrs. Burton picked him up tenderly, sat upon a large stone, rocked back and forth with him, kissed him repeatedly, cried over him, while Toddie turned upon his stomach, surveyed the scene with apparent satisfaction, and remarked : " Say, Aunt Alish, it's djolly to be a shotted soldier." 196 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. Budge slowl)' recovered, put his arms round his aunt very tightly, and finally said : "Oh, Aunt Alice, 'twas awful ! " " Tell me all about it dear," said Mrs. Burton, " when you feel well enough. Where have you been all day % Aunty's heart had been almost broken about you." " Why, you see," said Budge, " we wanted to do some- thing nice for yow, 'fore we went home to stay, 'cause you've been so nice to us. Why, when we talked about it, we couldn't think of a single unpleasant thing you'd done to us, though I'm sure you have done some. Any- how, we couldn't 'member any." " 'Cept sayin' * Don't ! * lotch of timesh," remarked Toddie. " Well," said Budge, " Tod thought 'bout that, but we made up our minds perhaps we needed that said to us. An' we couldn' think of anything nicer than to get you some wild flowers, ^v'rybody's got xXn,^ »n<»<*^ r*AA^M^ rkn^^ f Hof«A a cui/tn lnA%ala§ 4rtex\*r\ea %\'W\ ttiU 3£lIllC sSC^iViivij Oiiivt vxi\^i xj o sjuvix rt/txty ivixio Ul/ III VIIU rocks. Don't you see ? " said OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 197 Mrs. Burton looked, and shuddered. The cliff above her head was a hundred feet high, jagged all over its front, yet from each crevice exquisite ferns posed their peaceful fronds before the cold gray of the rock. " 'Twasn't here,' said Budge ; " 'twas way' up arouud the corner, where the rocks ain't so high ; but they're harder to climb. We climbed up here first." " Oh, you dreadful, darling children 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, giving Budge a squeeze of extra severity. "To think of two little children going up such a dreadful place ! Why it makes me dizzy to see your Uncle Harry do it." " Ain't childrens when we climb mountainsh," asserted Toddie; ** we'zh mans then." " Well," continued Budge, " we got lots, and throwed each one away 'cause we kept seein' nicer ones higher up. Say, Aunt Alice, what's the reason things higher up always looks extra nice 1 " " I know," said Toddie. " Why is it, then, Toddie ] " asked Mrs. Burton. '"Cauzh theysh closer to hebben," said Toddie. " G'won, Budgie—/ likes to hear 'bout it, too." " Well," said Budge, " at last we got to a place where the rocks all stopped and some more began. An' u[) them was the loveliest ferns of all." " An* /went up the mountain fyst, /did," said Toddie. " Yes, Tod did, the blessed little sassy rascal/' said Budge, blowing a kiss to his brother. " I told him I didn't believe that any ferns were nicer than any others, but he said, * Lord'U make 'em so then, for Aunt Alish ; ' and up he went just like a spider." " vv ent up fysif isaiu x uuuiu. " Course yon did," said Budge. " 'Cause /didn't go up at all. And Tod was puUin' at a big fern with his back 198 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. to me, an* the first thing I knew there he was in the air layin' down sideways on nothin' — then he hollered." " 'Cauzh I earned down bunk on whole lotch of little rocks," exclaimed Toddie. " But I didn't lose the fyne — here tizh ! " and Toddie held up a badly crushed and wilted ball of something this had once been a fern ; see- ing which, Mrs. Burton sat Budge upon the stone, hurried to Toddie, thrust the bruised fern into her bosom, and kissed its captor soundly. " Hold me some more," said Budge ; " I don't feel very good yet." '' Tlieii what did you do % " asked Mrs. Burton, resum- ing her position as i nurse. " Why, Tod went on hollerin', an' he couldn't walk, so I helped him down to the road, an' he couldn't walk Act " Mrs. Burton has turned again to Toddie, and carefully <'xamined his legs without finding any broken bones. " The hurt is in the bottom part of my leg an* the top ])art of my foot," said Toddie, who had sprained his ancle. " An' he just hollered mam-ma and -^a-pa so sad," con- tinued Budge. "An' 'twas awful. An' I looked up the road an' there wasn't anybody, an' down the front of the mountain and there wasn't anybody, an' I didn't know what to do, 'cause 'twouldn't do to go 'way off" home to tell, when a poor little brother was feelin' so dreadful bad. Then I 'membered how papa said he'd sometimes seen shot soldiers carried away when there wasn't any wagons. So I pulled at the limb of the tree to get the thing to drag i)im on." »T Xl\, JJUUgc^ ; CAtittillltu xixta. x^uivt.-u, J""" vtvxi t- mean to say you got that bough all alone by yourself, do youl" f OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 199 and t " Well, no, I guess not," said Budge, hesitatingly. " I pulled at one after another, but not one of them would split, and then I thought of somethin' an' kneeled right down by the tree, an' told the Lord all about it, an' told Hira I Iniew He didn't want poor little hurt Tod to lie there all day, an' wouldn't He please help me to break a limb to draw him on ? An' when I got up off of my knees I was as strong as forty thousand horses. I don't think I needed the Lord to help me a hit then. An' I just gave one pull at the limb, an' down it came kOTsplit, an' I pat Tod on it, an' dragged him. But T tell you it was hard ! " " 'Twash/ww, too," said Toddie, " 'cept when it went where there was little rocks in the road, an' they came up an' hitted the hurt playshc." " I dragged it in the soft parts of the road," said Budge, " whenever I could, but sometimes there wasn't any soft place all across the road. An' things jumped in- side of me— that little 'heart engine, you know— aw/w/. I could only go about a dozen steps without stoppin' to rest. An' then Tod stopped cryin' an' said he was hun- gry, an' that reminded me that /was hungry, too." " But we didn't lose the fyne," said Toddie. Mrs. Burton took the memento from her breast and kissed it. " Why," said Budge, " you do like it awful, don't you ? All right, then. Tod an' me don't care for bothers an' hurts then, do we Tod ! " " No, indeedy," said Toddie. " Not when we can ride like shotted soldiers, an' get home to get brepspup an' lunch togevver." " Neither of you shall have any more trouble about getting home," said Mrs. Burton. " Just sit here quietly while I go and send a carriage for you." 200 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. it . My ! " said Budge, " that'll be lovely ; won't it, Tod ? Am t you glad you got hurt? But say, Aunt Alice "^^®{} ^ you got any crackers in your pocket 1 " ' * Why no—certainly not!" exclaimed the lady, tem- porarily losing her tenderness. " Oh I " said Budge, «I thought you might have : papa always does when he goes out to look for us when we stay away from home a good while." belo"^^^"^^ a horse's hoofs were heard on the road " I shouldn't wonder if that was Mike." said Mrs. Bur- Vt u ??^ '^^*^^ ^^^ ®" horseback, looking for you " 1 shouldn't wonder if 'twas papa,'' said Budge : " he's the funniest man for always comin' anywhere first when we need him most." "An' wif crackers," remarked Toddie. The clattering hoofs came nearer, though slower, and finally, true to the children's intuitions, around the bend 01 the road came Tom Lawrence on horseback, an old army haversack and canteen slung over his shoulder. i'apa! shouted both boys; "hooray!" Tom Law- rence waved his hat, and Toddie shouted, « ile's got the crackers, I see the bag ! " The father reined up sudu.nly and dismounted. Budge rushed to his arms, and Toddie exclaimed, "Papa, guesh its a long time since you's seen a shotted soldier, am t it 1" k ?^^\-^°^*^^® ^^ P^*°®^ ^" *^^ saddle, and Budge behind hira, and the precious haversack was opened and found to contain sandwiches, and both boys tried to drink out of i-he canteen, and poured a great deal of water into their bosoms, and Tom lead the horse care- miiy, and Mrs. Burton walked upon one side, with a hand under Toddie's lame leg to keep the bruised ankle 1 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. tit, Tod? it Alice, ady, tem- ve ; papa when we the road ^rs. Bur- r you." 1 ; " he's St when ver, and he bend , an old ier. to. Law- got the uduonly Toddle shotted Budge led and ried to ieal of 3e care- with a 1 ankle 201 1 I from touching the saddle, and she did not swerve from the middle of the dusty road, even when carriages full of stylish acquaintances were met, and both little heroes, like men of larger growth, forgot *t once that they had ever been heroic, and they prattled as inconsequently as any couple of silly children could have done, and the horse was led by a roundabout road, so that no one mi^ht see the party and apprise Mrs. Lawrence that anythuig unusual had happened ; and the boys were heavily bribed to tell their mother nothing until their father had ex- plained, and they wpre carried in, each in his father's arms, to kiss their mamma ; and when they undressed and went to bed, the sister-baby was, by special dispen- sation of the nurse allowed to lie between them for a few moments, and the evening ceremonies were pro- longed infinitely by the combined aits of boys and parent and then Budge knelt and prayed, * " Dear Lord, we're awful glad to get back again, 'cause nobody can be like papa and mamma to us, an' I'm so thankful I don't know what to do for bein' made so strong when I wanted to break that limb off of the tree, and bless dear Aunt Alice for findin' us, and bless poor uncle more, 'cause he tried to find us, and was disap- pointed, and make every little boy's papa just like ours, to come to 'em just when they need him, just like you' Amen." And Toddie shut his eyes in bed, and said. " Dee Lord, I went up the mountain fyst— don't foreet that Amen." ^ 202 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. CHAPTER XI. T^HERE was a little family conclave at the Lawrence house a fortnight later. No deliberative meeting had been intended, quite the contrary ; for Mrs Law^ rence was on that day to make her first appearance at the dinner-table withm a month, and Mrs. Burton and her husband were invited to step in informally on the occasion and they had been glad enough to do so, al- though the boys, who had been allowed to dine that night with the family in honor of ti.e occasion, con- versed so volubly, that no other person at the table could speak without interruption. But there came an hour when the boys could no longer prolong the usual prelim- manes of going to bed, although they kissed their parents and visitors once as a matter of course, a second time to be sure they had done it, and a third time to assure them- seh^s that they had forgotten nobody. Then several chats were interrupted by various juvenile demands, pleas and questions from the upper floor ; but as. when Lawrence went in person to answer the last one he found both boys sleeping soundly, the families devoted them- selves to each other with the determination of passing a pleasant evening. They talked of what was going on in the world and a great deal that might be going on but vvas not, the blame being due to persons who did not think as they did ; they sang, played, quoted books, talked pictures and bric-a-brac, and then Mrs. Lawrence changed the entire course of conversation by promising to replace Mrs. Burton's chair which the dog Jerry had destroyed by special arrangement with the boya " Yoxx shan't do anything of the sort," said Mrs. Bur- ton ; just keep the dear little scamps from playing such i Lawrence 3 meeting ilrs. Law- sarance at irton and ly on the do so, al- ]ine that don, con- ble could an hour il prelim- r parents 1 time to ire them- n several lemands, as, when he found id them- )a8sing a ng on in » on but did not . books, awrence •omising 'Try had rs. Dur- ing such OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 203 1 pranks on any one who don't happen to love them so well, and I'll forgive them." " You don't imagine for a moment that they knew what the result would be when they tied Jerry to the chair, do you 1 " asked Mrs. Lawrence. "Never ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, emphatically, *• but they did it, and it might have happened somewhere else, with some one who didn't love them so well, and what would they have thought 1 " " She means that strangers would have imagined your boys to be a couple of little boors, Nell," said Mr. Burton to his sister. " Strangers know nothing whatever about other people's children," said Mrs. Lawrence with considerable dignity, "and they should therefore have nothing to do with them and pass no opinions upon them. No one estimates children by what they are ; they only judge by the amount of trouble they make. Some bloodless little manikins— they're almost idiots, poor little things ! — go through child- hood as pinks of propriety, simply because they never do anything out of the way. What do people care about the good things and loving things that the helpless, almost soulless little things don't dof' "Now you've done it. Mistress Alice," said Mr. Burton to his wife. "It is better to meet a she-bear that is Tobbed of her whelps than a mother whose children are ■criticised by any one but herself." " Fve done it ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. " Who trans- lated any quiet remark into something offensive enough to make any body angry? Besides, you've misapplied Scripture only to suggest things worse yet. If I'm not mistaKen the proverb about the she-bear and her whelps has something in it about a fool and his folly. Do you 204 OtHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. mean to insinuatesuch insulting ideas about your aisterand her darlings 1" But no amount of badinage could make Mrs. Lawience forget that some implied advice was secreted in her sister- in-law's carefully worded remark, so she continued, " I'm extremelly sorry they had to go to you, but I couldn't imagine what better to do. I wish Tom could have staid at home all the while to take care of them I hope, if we ever die, they may follow us at once. Nothing is so dreadful as the idea of one's children being perpetu- ally misunderstood by some one else, and having their dear honest little hearts hardened and warped just when they should be cared for most patiently and tenderly." " Why Helen !"^ exclaimed Mrs. Burton, changing her seat so as to take Mrs. Lawrence's hand," I'd die for your children at any time, if it would do them any good." " I believe you, you dear girl," said Mrs. Lawrence recovering her natural manner, and not entirely unashamed of her outburst of feeling, " but you don't understand it all, as you will some day. The children trouble me worse than they ever did or can any one else ; but it isn't their fault, and I know it, and can endure it. No one else can. I am sure I don't know how to blame people who are annoyed by pranks naturally annoying." " Then what's to be done with youngsters in general ? " asked Mrs. Burton. " They're to be kept at home," said Mrs. Lawrence — " kept under eye of father or mother continually, until they are large enough to trust ; and the age at which they're to be trusted should not be determined by the impatience of their parents either," " Don't be frierhtened. Alirfi." Raid Tnm «< Hele» ^•^A sonrip of these notions before she had any boys of her own to defend, they're of juvenile application/' vJ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 205 y, "They're certainly not the result of my children's happy experiences with the best aunt and uncle that ever lived," said Mrs. Lawrence, caressing her adopted sister's hand. " If you could hear the boys' praises of you both, you'd grow insu-'!'rfrably vain, and imagine your- selves born to manage orphan asylums." " Heaven forbid ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton, the imme- diate result of her utterance being the partial withdrawal of Mrs. Lawrence's hand. " There are only two chihlren in the family " "Three," corrected Mrs. Lawrence, promptly, " Oh, bless me, what have I said ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. " Well, there are only three children in the family, and they are not enough to found an asylum, while I feel utterly unfitted to care for any child that I don't know very well and love very dearly." " Is it possible that any one can learn so much in so short a time 1 " exclaimed Tom Ijawrence. " Harry, my boy, you're to be congratulated." " Upon educating me 1 " asked Mrs. Burton, with an assumed pout. " Upon the rare wisdom with which he selected a wife — or, the special favour he found at the court where matches are made," explained Tom. " Harry didn't select me at all," said Mrs. Burton. " Budge did it for him, so of course the match was de- creed in heaven. But may I know of what my sudden acquisition of knowledge consists 1 If anything in my experience with the boys that I am not to feel humiliated about, I should be extremely glad to know of it. I went into the valley of humiliation within an hour of their arrivalj and since then I've scarcely been out of it." " If it weren't of being suspected of a tendency to throw moral deductions at people," replied Tom, " I 206 OTHER f>gnPLE's CHILDREN. woiiM say that that same vali'ey of humiliation is very prolific in discoveries. But, preaching aside, you Jiave made a rare discovery in learning that no one can man- age children without first loving them ; even a heart fuli of love has to make room for a good deal of sorrow over blunders and failures." •* To say nothing of the way that same affection thins the hair on top of a father's head," suggested Mr. Burton. *' Personalities of that sort are out of order until I reach threescore years," said Tom. " I've learned that affection is absolutely necessary," said Mrs. Burton, " but I confess that 1 don't see clearly that 111 rehires that one should be trampled upon, wfeeedlel, ma. of no account and without authority in one'b own honne, submit to o I ! " exclaimed Harry, with a mock tragic air, " 'could I the horrors of my prison house unfold ; ' you would see that the obedient member of the Burton family never appears in dresses." " Certainly not," said Mrs. Burton. " Didn't he pro- 208 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREIN, 'i raise to be mine to command, and shall I neglect my re- sponsibilities ? I obeyed my parents." " And never doubted that their orders were wise, bene- hcent, and necessary, of course ? " asked Lawrence. »r.JT' T ' i ^^'^ P^^"*"' warningly ; « if you don't want Alice to abuse other people's children, be careful what you say about other childrens' parents. Don't plav grand inquisitor." ^ -^ "Oh not at all," said Tom hastily; "only I should like to borrow woman's curiosity for a while, and have It gratified m this particular case." "I don't know that I always admitted the wisdom of my parents command," said Mrs. Burton ; " but how could 1? I was only a child." "You rendered unquestionable obedience in spirit as pulsuTd Tom' '^^''' ^'''' ^''^"'' ^ young lady, then," " No, I didn't— there ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton : " but what return can a child make for parental care and suf- tering, except to at least seem to be a model of compliance wiih Its parents' desires ? " "Good ! " exclaimed Harry. " And what can a hus- band who knows that his own way is best, do to recom- pense wifely companionship, but to meekly do as his wife wants him to do, no matter how incorrect her ideas 1 " J V>f ^'^'J.^-s*^^ to reason and not be a conceited goose " said Mrs. Burton ; " and he can refrain from impeding the flow of brotherly instruction." " Oh, thank you—thank you !" said Tom. " I hope your irony may sharpen my wits a little, for you've bet me upon my hobby, between you, and I must ride it until Im tired out. "Don't be priggish, Tom," said Helen, warningly. "Ill try not," said Tomj "but one can't tell unwel- OTHER PEOPLE'S CRILDREH. 209 commrdt'" ^'^ "'"'' '^ "•''""'" «"<* Mr. Burton ; " I Mrs. Lawrence's smile showed that she wonlrl Knc„*- « j with the result, and her husband continued "'"'^'^'^^ Children-ninety-nine one-hundreths of those I've seen, at least-are treated as necessary nuisances bvfhp^r parens, ^e good fathers and mother^ ruldTe^^^^^^^ to realize this truth, and when it accidentalirprSents Itself, as It frequently does to any with heart and head "ts appearance IS so unpleasing and perDlexinr fW .1 promptly take refug(in tradition, 'wt:?t^t;t^^^^^^^ up in the same way? To be snrp W^ fi,^ i- "^?"g"^ tlTe same rule tha( has always^'^^d the^fc"/ cruelest of overseers, and the ex-servant the to,^t'of m^tera ; but such comparisons are odious to one Wide b"r ""* ^ "'"-"^^'' ^'"«" P"-!" 4s down A A ^?°J n"""*" ''**"'^ '" ^'S>i^ Harry. " You'll eet to Adam's fall pretty soon, won't you, Tom ?" * "Don't fear,'' laughed Mrs. Lawrence j " it's the fallin. of other people that troubles me-that, and their wS ness to stay down when they've tumbled, and [hltlm' ne^ with which they can Ue quiet and crash pZ H t?e children who aren't responsible for being unS them Adam knew enough to wish himself back in his honorabk position but most parents have had no lofty positbn to which they could look longing back, and there i-e but fev of them that can remember any such place having Zn^!; up to your-Meal- standard ' ^' aVuSr^fTh^dtlj;^ asked Mrs. Burton,-" submit to* any and every imposj- O 210 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. tion, allow every misdeed to go unpunished, by the ruled instead of the ruler ?" .u " ^.u T'" r^^ '^T' " '^'^ something a great deal harder than that. Its to live for the children instead of one's selu "And have all your nice times spoiled and your plans upset I ^ r it" Y^/' ^"^«8» they're really of more value than human hfe and human character," replied Tom. " You indicate the^proper starting point in your last remark : if you'll study that for yourself, you'll learn a great deal more than 1 can tell you, and learn it more pleasantly too " "I don't want to study," said Mrs. Burton,' « when I can get my information at second-hand." « Go on, Tom," said Mr. Burton, "continue to appear m your character of the ' Parental Encyclopsedist 'we'll try to stop one ear, so that what goes in at the other shall not be lost. "I only want to say that the plans and good times which Alice alluded to as being spoiled by the chil- uM^' ^l^ Th^ """'^ .^""^"^ promising generation. The child should be taught, but instead of that he is only restrained He should be encouraged to learn the mean- ing and the essence of whatever of the enevitable is forced u{K)n him from year to year; but he soon learns that children s questions are as unwelcome as tax-collec- tors or lightning-rod men. And it's astonishing how few hints are necessary to give a child the habit of retirine into himself, and from there to such company as he can find to tolerate him. " You needn't fear for your boys, Tom." said Mr. Bur- ton. "Id pay handsomely for the discovery of a single question which they have ever wanted to' ask, butle- framed from putting. ' •y the ruled deal harder >ad of one's your plans [lan human 9U indicate k ; if you'll more than " when I I to appear dist ' we'll the other ;ood times r the chil- iion. The he is only the mean- 3vitable is oon learns tax-coUec- g how few of retiring as he can i Mr. Bur- f a single k, butre- OTffEB PEOPLE'S VBILDREN. 2 1 1 "And what myriads of them they can ask—nof fi,.* Sr a''"* """"^ *•«•"' •'• the WeTrlC^ S "lam glad of it," said Tomj "but I hone thpv'rl rK"ii""«» " *"' »- •"" theirSa • Z^t^v'"^^^'""' ^""i «° *§*"'•" 8a'd Mrs. Burton • »':jid ^^;:4r ^'"^^ ">»■" - »»-. - -- " Certainly you haven't," said Tom • " pvpmqo o „; i quotation-*i» brother-in-law Burton. ^^' ^ ^'^ ^"°*^ ^^^"^ ' " ^ked Mn for"f?« N^H 'V*!?/^"",? " ^^^ *^« ^^ *«« ^ell rewarded for the httle he did, to be worthy of consideration " Mrs. Burton mcUned her head in acknowledgment of her brother-m-law's compliment, and asked : '^^'"^'"* ^^ But do you think all children's questions are nut with any distinct intention? don't you iWine that thev ask a great many because they don't know whl? else t^ do, or because they want to-to " Burtln. ^^ *^*'"'^ ^'°'^' '^® '"^*"«' ^^™'" «*id Mr. .rrnT^'^ "^^^^'" '^'^ '^^"- " ^"t *he answers are what are of consequence no matter what the motive of the questions may be." "*"wve oi cno ToL'^}.^''f^J^'^^:L Burton; "reallv. lom „x^.u . vuu airaia you're iosmg yourself? '» I reaUy hadn't noticed it," said Tom ; " but perhaps 2l2 OTHER PEOPLE^S CHtLDREN. I may be able to explain myself more clearly. You go to church ? " "Regularly— every Sunday," responded Mrs. Burton promptly. " And always with the most reverent feelings, of course. You never find your mind full of idle questionings, or mere curious wondering, or even a perfect blank, or a circle upon which your thoughts chase themselves around to their starting place without aim or motive ? " " How well you know the ways of the humdrum mind, Tom," said Mrs. Burton. " You didn't learn them from your personal experience, of course ? " " I wish I hadn't," said Tom ; but supposing you at some few times in your life ha/e gone into the sanctuary in such frames of mind, did you never have them changed by what you've heard ? and did you never have the very common experience of learning that it is at these very moments of weakness, indecision, blankness, childishness, or whatever you may please to call it, the mind becomes peculiarly retentive of whatever real value hannens to strike it 1" ^^ Mrs. Burton reflected, and by silence signified her as- sent, but she was not fully satisfied with the explanation, for she askedj " Do you think, then, that all the ways of children are just as they should be ? — that they never ask questions from any but heaven-ordained motives ? — that they are utterly devoid of petty guile ? " " They're human, I believe," said Mr. Lawrence, " and full of human weaknesses, but any other human beings present company excepted, of course — should know by ex- j/T-i ivii V5--J XIV TT s.iv^x^- .«..».»i."i.. viiviTj lo ill Duc Lu u3 (/ aijnoyinfif of people. Certainly children do copy the faults of their elders and — oh, woe is me ! — inherit the failings of their . You go to Mrs. Burton igs, of course, juestionings, t blank, or a lelves around ndrum mind, n them from ►osing you at he sanctuary tiem changed lave the very it these very childishness, lind becomes happens to tiified her as- explanation, ' children are Lsk questions iat they are ^rence, "and Qan beingg — know by ex- jst aiinoying lults of their lings of their OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 213 ancestors, but it is astonishing how few they seem to have when the observer will forget himself and honestly devote himself to their good. I confess it does need the wisdom of Solomon to discover when they are honest and when they re inclined to be trioky." , " And can you inform us where the wisdom of Solomon IS to be procured for the purpose 1 " asked Mrs. Burton. J^rom the source at which Solomon obtained it, I suppose, said Tom Lawrence; "from an honest, unsel nsn mind, and the assisting power which is quick to search out and help the honest mind wherever it is. But It IS so much easier to trust to selfishness and its twin demon suspicion, that nothing but a pitying Providence sa^es most children from reform schools and penitenti- aries. _ "But the superiority of adults— their right to demand implicit, unquestioning obedience " " Is the most vicious, debasing tyranny that the world was cursed by,' interrupted Tom Lawrence with start- ling emphasis. *' It gave the old Romans power of life and death oyer their children, it cast some of the vilest blots upon the pages of holy writ. Nowadays it is worse, tor then it worked its principal mischief upon the body, but nowadays I say unto you, fear not them that kill the body, but— excuse a free rendering— fear them who cast both soul and body into hell. You're orthodox I be- lieve. * Mrs. Burton shuddered, but her belief in the rights of the adults, which she had inherited from a line of an- cestors reaching back to Adam (or protoplasm, if the scientists prefer to fivf.AnrJ f.he rlic»«oi i,v^ /— ' and, finally, we then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves.* Again I would re- mark, that I believe you're orthodox." The Burtons looked very sober for a moment, when suddenly there came through the air the cry — Tom sprang to his feet ; Helen looked anxious, and the Burtons smiled quietly at each other. The cry was repeated, and louder, and as Tom opened the door a little figure in white appeared. " I can't get to sleep," remarked Budge, shielding his eyes a moment from the light. " I ain't seen you for so long that I'se got to sit in your lap till some sleep will come to me." " Come to auntie. Budge," said Mrs. Burton ; " poor papa is real tired — you can't imagine the terrible work he's been at for an hour." " Papa says it rests him to rest me," said Budge, clasp- ing his father tightly. The Burtons looked on with considerable quiet amuse- ment, until there arose another cry in the hall of — " VsL-pa ! Qw ! pa-pa ! " Again 'Tom hurried to the door, this time with Budge clinging tightly around his neck, and as the door opened, Toddie crept in on his hands and knees, exclaiming, " The old bed wazh all empty, only 'cept me, an' I 216 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. i 1 'cauzh I didn't want to be Ize all empty too, and I kwawled down the stepsh loneshome no more. And wantzh somefin' to eat." Helen went to the dining-room closet and brought in a piece of light cake. " There goes all my good instructions." groaned Mrs. Burton, "To think of the industry with which I have always laboured to teach those children that it's injurious to eat between meals, and worse yet to eat cake f " " And to think of how you always ended by letting the children have their own way ! " added Mr. Burton. " Eating between meals is the least of two evils. When a small boy is kept in bed with a sprained ankle, and on a short allowance of food. Oh dear ! I see my subject nosing around again, Alice. Do you know that most of the wickedness of children come from the lack of proper attention to their physical condition 1 " " Save me I Pity me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Burton. I'm convmced already that I don't know a single thing about children, and I'll know still less if I take another lesson to-day." "Izh you takin' lessons. Aunt AlishT' asked Toddie, who had caught a fragment of the conversation, " what book is you lyin' from 1 " " A primer," replied Mrs. Burton ; " the very smallest, most insignificant of A B C books." " Why, can't you read ? " asked Budge. " Oh, yes," sighed Mrs. Burton. « But whether there ]>e k nowledge it shall vanish away." " But love never faileth," responded Mr. Lawrence. " If want you to learn anything," said Budge, "just you asK iiiy papa. He'll make you know all about it, no mat- ter how awful stupid you are." / \ OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 217 nt to be and I )ught in led Mrs. 1 I have njurious I" T letting Burton. d ankle, see my ow that 3 lack of n. I'm g about r lesson Toddie, " what mallest, jr there nee. ust you no mat- ( i '* Many thanks for the advice— and the insinuations," said Mrs. Burton. ♦' I feel as if the latter were particu- larly pertinent, from the daze my head is in. I never knew before how necessary it was to be nobody in order to be somebody." The boys took possession of their father one upon each knee, and Tom rocked with them and chatted in a low tone to them, and hummed a tune, and finally broke into a song, and as it happened to be one of the variety known as " roaring," his brother-in-law joined him, and the air recalled old friends and old associations, and both voices grew louder, and the ladies caught the air and increased its volume with their own voices, when suddenly a very shrill thin voice was heard above their hep/Js, and Mrs. Lawrence exclaimed, " Sh — h — h ! the baby is awake." The subsequent sounds indicated beyond doubt that Mrs. Lawrence was correct in her supposition, and she started instinctively for the upper floor, but found herself arrested by her husband's arm and anxious face, while Mrs. Burton exclaimed, " Oh, bring it down here, please do ! " The nurse was summoned, and soon appeared with a wee bundle of flannel, linen, and pink face and fingers. " Give her to me," exclaimed Mrs. Burton, rising to take the baby, but the baby exclaimed " Ah ! " and its mother snatched it. Then the baby did its best to hide in its mother's bosom, and its mother did her best to help it, and by the merest chance a rosy little foot escaped from its covering, seeing which Mrs. Burton hurriedly moved her chair and covered the foot with both her hands ; though it would have been equally convenient and far less laborious to have tucked the foot back among its habitual wrappings. Then the boys had to be moved 218 OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. nearer the baby, so that they could touch it, and try to persuade it to coo ; And Harry Burton found himself sit- ting so far from any one else that he drew his chair closer to the group, just to be sociable ; and the Law- rences grew gradually to look very happy, while the Bur- ton's grew more and more solemn, and at last the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Burton met under the superabundant wraps of the baby, and then their eyes met, and the lady's eyes were full of tears and the husband's full of tender- ness, and Budge, who had taken in the whole scene, broke the silence by remarking, " Why, Aunt Alish, what are you crying for ? " Then every one looked up and looked awkward, until Mrs. Lawrence leaned over the baby and kissed her sis- ter-in-law, noticing which the two men rose abruptly, al- though Tom Lawrdnce found occasion to indulge in the ceremony of taking Harry Burton by the hand. Then the baby yielded to her aunt's solicitations, and changed her resting-place for a few moments, and the gentlemen were informed that if they wanted to smoke they would have to do it in the dining soom, for Mrs. Lawrence was not yet able to bear it. Then the gentlemen adjourned, and stared at each other as awkwardly over their segars as if they had never met before, and the ladies chatted as confidentially as if they were twin sisters that had never been separated, and the boys were carried back to bed, one by each gentleman, and they were re-kissed good- night, and their father and uncle were departing when Toddie remarked, " Papa, mamma hazhn't gived our sister-baby to Aunt Alish to keep, hazh she ? " " I don't want anybody to have that sister-baby but us," said Budge ; " but if anybody had to, Aunt Alice (i ' ■ HB'-'"«J « .«t ' H l OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN. 219 would be the person. Do you know, I believe she was praying to it, she looked so funny." The gentlemen winked at each other, and again Tom Lawrence took the hand of his brotherin-law. Several months later, however, the apprehensions of the boys were quieted by the appearance of a little visitor at the Burtons', who acted as if she had come to stay, and who in the course of years cured Mrs. Burton of every assump- tion of the ability of relatives to manage other people's children. THE END. Hunter Buse and Co., Printer^