“You come to vizhit at our housh,” said Toddie,” an you can have cake between mealsh, an’ make mud-pies whenever you want to, no matter if youzh got your very besht clozhezh on. An’ I won’t ever say ‘Don’t!’s to you one single time!”
“An’ you shall have your own mamma come every day to frolic an’ cut up with you,” said Budge. “I wish you had a papa; we’d have him too!”
“Aunt Alice,” said Budge, “how do big folks get along without papas and mammas?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure, dear,” said Mrs. Burton, remembering how helpless she found herself when her husband first took her from beneath her mother’s wing.
“Don’t they ever have somethin’ to tell ’em, an’ then feel like somebody else when they find they ain’t there to tell ’em to?”
“I suppose some do,” said Mrs. Burton, recalling some periods of her own life when she longed for a confidant who should be neither lover nor friend.
“Don’t you think maybe they look all around then, an’ think the nicer things are the lonelier they are?” continued Budge.
“Yes, dear,” replied Mrs. Burton, with a kiss.
“Musht be awful not to have anybody to ask for pennies when youzh lonesome an’ don’t know what else to do,” said Toddie.
“An’ not to have anybody hold you to keep from kind o’s tumblin’ to pieces when you’ve seen enough of everythin’, an’ done enough of everythin’, an’ don’t know what’ goin’ to happen next, an’ wish it wouldn’t happen at all,” said Budge. “Say, Aunt Alice, folks don’t ever have to feel that way when they get to be angels, do they?”