“’Cauzh I didn’t want to,” replied Toddie. “I izhn’t like old choo-choos dat getsh filled up dzust ’cause dey comes to a watering playzh. I only likesh to dwink when I’zhe fursty; an’ I’zhe fursty now.”
Another well was approached; Toddie drank about two swallows of water, and replied to his aunt’s declaration that he couldn’t have been thirsty at all by the explanation:
“I doezn’t hold very much. I izhn’t like de horsesh, dat can dwink whole pails full of water, an’ den hazh room for gwash. But I guesh I’zhe got room for some cake.”
“Then I’ll give you another cracker,” said Mr. Burton.
“Don’t want one,” said Toddie. “Cwacker couldn’t push itself down as easy as cake.”
“I do believe,” said Mrs. Burton, “that the child’s animal nature has taken complete possession of him. Eating and mischief has been the whole of his life during the week, yet he used to be so sweetly fanciful and sensitive.”
“Children’s wits are like the wind, my dear,” said Mr. Burton. “’Thou canst not tell whence it cometh nor whither it goeth’; you set your sails for it, and behold it isn’t there, but when you’re not expecting it, down comes the gale.”
“A gale!” echoed Budge. “That’s what we’re goin’ to have to-day.”
“Izn’t neiver,” said Toddie. “Goin’ to hazh a picnic.”
“Well, gales and picnics is the same thing,” said Budge.