“Mebbe different people’s arms make a difference to sick folks,” suggested Budge, holding the patient still more tenderly, and oblivious to Toddie’s outstretched arms.
“Dzust see how sad he looks at you!” said Toddie. “I fink his eyes is a-sayin’, ‘Oh, I’ll die if dat dear Doctor Toddie don’t nurse me.’ I shouldn’t fink you could be so dreadful cruel, Budgie.”
Budge reluctantly relinquished the patient, on whom Toddie bestowed a squeeze so affectionate that the dog howled piteously, and struggled to free himself.
“There!” said Budge,” what did I tell you. You’re the kind of doctor that don’t agree with him, you see.”
“’Tain’t me,” said Toddie. “I guesh it’ de medshin takin’ effec’. Dem beads—pills, I mean—can’t get into his bonesh an’ mushels wifout skwatchin’ him.”
“I ’pect that’s ’cause we forgot to give ’em to him in somethin’ nice, like papa gives us our medicine.”
BUDGE AND TODDIE PLAYING DOCTOR
“Letsh give him somefin’ nysh now!” said Toddie, “Mebbe it can find de medshin, an’ dey’ll go along nysh togevver, dzust like two little budders.”
“All right. What’ll it be?”