“I won’t put so much in nexsht time,” said Toddie, “’cauzh ’tain’t no good to twy a fing an’ den have de tryin’ stuff go an’ take de fing all away from you an’ get so mad as to bweak stoves to bits an’ scare little boysh an’ Aunt Alishes ’most to deff.”
CHAPTER IX
“Ow, Ow, OW!” was the réveillé of the Burton family on the next morning, and it was sounded from the room of the juvenile guests.
“Another fight, I suppose,” grunted Mr. Burton in his room, “and as I’m dressed I might as well go and see which one was whipped and which ought to be.”
Arrived at his nephew’s room, Mr. Burton found Toddie curled up in the middle of the bed sound asleep, and his brother with his eyes shut, but wriggling restlessly.
“What’s the matter, Budge?” asked Mr. Burton.
“My side hurts, where I bunked it, stoppin’ in the gutter, when I slid down the mountain,” drawled Budge. “An’ the hard part of the bed comes up to it and hurts it. As soon as I find a soft part of the bed, the hard part begins to come up through it and hurt me.”
“Suppose you were to turn and lie on the other side?”
“I—why—I—then—I—” stammered Budge, arising slowly and rubbing his eyes, “then I wouldn’t have any soft parts to look for, an’ I wouldn’t have anythin’ to do.”