“No, dey izhn’t. Galesh is kind o’s rough, but picnics is nysh. Galesh is like rough little boysh, like you, but picnics is nysh, like dear little sister-babies.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Budge, “we haven’t seen that baby for two days. Let’s go right back an’ look at her.”
“Budge, Budge!” remonstrated Mrs. Burton; “try to be content with what you have, and don’t always be longing for something else. You can go to see her when we return.”
“I can see her wivout goin’ back,” said Toddie. “I can see anybody I wantsh to, dzust whenever I pleash.”
“Don’t be silly, Toddie,” remonstrated Mrs. Burton, in spite of a warning nudge from her husband.
“How do you see them, Toddie?” asked Mr. Burton.
“Why, I duzst finks a fink about ’em, an’ den dey comezh wight inshide of my eyezh, an’ I sees ’em. I see lotsh of peoples dat-a-way. I sees AbrahammynIsaac, an’ Bliaff, an’ little Dave, an’ de Hebrew children, an’ Georgie Washitton hatchetin’ down his papa’s tree, whenever I finks about ’em. Oh, dere goezh a wabbit! Letsh stop an’ catch him.”
“Oh, no, let him go,” said Mr. Burton. “Perhaps he’s going home to dinner, and his family are all waiting at the table for him.”
“Gwacious!” said Toddie, opening his eyes very wide and keeping silence for at least two minutes. Then he said, “I saw a wabbit family eatin’ dinner once. Dey had a little bittie of a table, an’ little bitsh of chairzh, an’ de 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.