“Why,” said Budge,” I took ’em off so’—so’ to get some cake for a little tea-party without makin’ a noise about it! You say our little boots make an awful racket. But say, why don’t you?”
“Why don’t I what?” asked Mrs. Burton, her whole train of thought 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 ever 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, taking the child into her arms.
“Why, you looked as if—as if—well, I don’t ’zactly know. You looked like papa’ 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,” said Mrs. Burton.
“I don’t want any cake,” said Budge, with an impatient 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, while returning his caresses, “do you know why I looked as I did? I was wondering why you and Toddie love your Uncle Harry so much better than you love me, and why you always mind him and disobey me.”
Budge was silent for a moment or two, then he sighed and answered:
“’Cause.”