“Goin’ to be real good, an’ then ashk de Lord for it,” said Toddie. “Wonder where de Lord keepsh de lotsh of nysh fings he’ goin’ to give good people when dey ashk Him for ’em?—money and fings?”
“Why, in heaven, of course,” said Budge.
“Hazh He got a savin’ bank an’ a toy-store?” asked Toddie.
“Sh—h—h!” whispered Mrs. Burton.
“He’s only talking of what grown people expect, my dear,” said Mr. Burton. “Go on, Budge.”
“Well, he didn’t have any more money, an’ he couldn’t write to his papa for some, ’cause there wasn’t any post offices in that country, so he went to work for a man, an’ the man made him feed pigs, and he had to eat the same things that the pigs ate. I don’t know whether he ate them out of a troff or not.”
“It’s a great pity that you are in doubt on that point,” said Mr. Burton.
“He could play in de mud like de pigs, couldn’t he?” said Toddie. “His papa was too far away to know about it, an’ to say ‘Don’t!’s at him.”
“I s’pose so,” said Budge, “but I don’t think a boy could feel much like playin’ with mud when he had to eat with the pigs. Well, he went along bein’ a pig-feeder, when all at once he ’membered that there was always enough to eat at his papa’s house. Say, Uncle Harry, boys is alike everywhere, ain’t they?”
“I suppose so, present company excepted. But what reminded you of it?”