“I mean, haven’t you learned, since you’ve been here, to be a great deal better than you ever were before?” asked Mr. Burton.
“I guesh so,” Toddie replied. “I’zhe said more prayersh an’ sung more little hymns dan I ever did in all my life before. An’ I ain’t pulled off any more hind hoppers from gwasshoppers sinsh Aunt Alice told me it wazh bad. I only pulls off front hoppers now. Dey’zh real little, you know—dere’ only a little bittie of ’em to feel hurted.”
“How is it with you, Budge?” asked Mr. Burton. “Do you feel as if you had learned to act from different motives.”
“What’s a motive?” asked Budge; “anythin’ like a loco-motive? I never feel like them, ’xcept when I run pretty hard; then I puff like everythin’, only steam don’t come out of me, but I always think there’s an engine inside of me, goin’ punk! punk! like everything. Papa says it’s only a heart—a little bit of a boy’s heart, but if that’s all, I should think a big man’ heart could pull a whole train of cars.”
“You haven’t learned to bear in mind the subject of conversation. But have you become able to comprehend the inner significance of things?”
“Things inside of us, do you mean?”
“Like oatmeal powwidge?” Toddie suggested.
“Have you realized that a master mind has been exerting a reformatory influence upon you?”
“Izh master mind an’ ’must mind’s de same fing?” asked Toddie. “We wasn’t doin’ noffin’ ’cept eatin’ our brekspups. Don’t see what we’s got to mind about.”
“Have you always unhesitatingly obeyed your aunt’s commands, moved thereunto by a sense of her superiority by divine right?”