“No,” said Mrs. Burton, with some impatience at the result of her attempt.” Besides, their tops are covered with snow all the time, and nobody can get up to them.”
“Then the little boy andzels can play snowballs on ’em wifout no cross mans comin’ up an’ sayin’, ‘Don’t!’” said Toddie.
Mrs. Burton tried again:
“See how high that bird is flying,” she said, pointing to a hawk who was soaring far above the hill.
“Yes,” said Budge. “He can go up into heaven whenever he wants to, ’cause he’s got wings. I don’t know why birds have got wings and little boys haven’t.”
“Little boys are already hard enough to find when they’re wanted,” said Mrs. Burton. “If they had wings they’d always be out of sight. But what makes you little boys talk so much about heaven to-day?”
“Oh, ’cause we’re up so much closer to it, I suppose,” said Budge, “when were on a high hill like this.”
“Don’t you think it must be nearly lunching time?” asked Mrs. Burton, using, in despair, the argument which has seldom failed with healthy children.
“Certainly,” said Budge. “I always do. Come on, Tod. Let’s go the quickest way.”
The shortest way was by numerous short cuts, with which the boys seemed perfectly acquainted. One of these, however, was by a steep incline, and Budge, perhaps snuffing the lunch-basket afar off, descended so rapidly that he lost his balance, fell forward, tried to recover himself, failed, and slipped rapidly through a narrow path which finally ended in a gutter traversing it.