“No, indeed,” said Mrs. Weathervane, going to the window. “The elder of these two boys cannot be more than six, while the younger may be four; and the older looks so sad, so introspective! The younger—poor little fellow—has only expectancy in his countenance. He is looking up to all the windows for the pennies that he expects to be thrown to him. He has probably not had so hard an experience as his companion, for his instrument is only a common whistle. Think of the frauds which their masters practise upon the tender-hearted! The idea of sending out a child with a common whistle on the pretense of making music.”
“It’s perfectly dreadful!” said Mrs. Burton.
“Then to think what the parents of some of these children may have been,” continued Mrs. Weathervane. “The older of this couple has really many noble lines in his face, did not the long-drawn agony of separation and abuse inscribe deeper ones there. The smaller one, vilely dirty as he is, has a very picturesque head and figure. He is smiling now. Oh! what wouldn’t I give if some artist could catch his expression for me!”
“Really,” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, approaching the window; “I hadn’t noticed so many charms about them, but I shall be glad to have them pointed out to me. Mercy!”
“What can be the matter?” murmured Mrs. Weathervane, as her visitor fell back from the window and dropped into a chair.
“They’re my nephews!” gasped Mrs. Burton. “Oh, what shall I do with those dreadful children?”
“Stolen from home?” inquired Mrs. Weathervane, discerning a romance within reaching distance.
“No—oh, no!” said Mrs. Burton. “I left them at home an hour or two ago. I can’t imagine why they should have taken this freak, unless because boys will be dreadful, no matter what is done for them. I suppose,” she continued, hurrying to the window, “that Budge has his uncle’s violin, which I think is fully as dear to its owner as his wife. Yes, he has it! Boys!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, appearing at the piazza-door, “go directly home.”
At the sound of their aunt’s voice the boys looked up with glad smiles of recognition, while Budge exclaimed, “Oh, Aunt Alice! we’ve played at lots of houses, an’ we’ve got nearly a dollar. We told everybody we was playin’ to help Uncle Harry buy a horse an’ carriage!”
“Go home!” repeated Mrs. Burton. “Go by the back road, too. I am going myself right away. Be sure that I find you there when I return.”