“Some of them do.”
“An’ do you do it?”
“Sometimes I do.”
“You don’t unless you want to, do you?”
“No!”
“Well, neither do I,” said Budge. “But when Uncle Harry wants me to do somethin’, why somehow or other I want to do it myself after a while. I don’t know why, but I do. An’ I don’t always, when you tell me to. I love 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’, an’ yours ain’t.”
Mrs. Burton mused, and gradually her lips twitched back into 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.”
“Don’t go, Budgie, dear,” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, clasping the boy tightly. “When any one teaches you anything that you want very much to know doesn’t it make you happy?”
“Oh, yes—lots,” said Budge.