“Oh, I s’pose those old Jews had to be told it,” said Budge, “’cause folks used to be awful bad to their children, an’ believe the Lord would be awful bad to them.”
“People need to be told the same story now, Budge,” continued Mrs. Burton. “They love to hear it, and know how good the Lord is willing to be to them.”
“Do they love it better than to learn how good they ought to be to their children?” Budge asked. “Then I think they’re piggish. I wouldn’t like my papa an’ mamma to be that way. They say that it’s gooder to care for what you can give than what you can get. An’ Uncle Harry hasn’t told us yet when we’re goin’ home, and who’s goin’ to take us.”
“Your papa is going to come for you as he returns from the city,” said Mr. Burton. “I think he wants to tell you something before you go home; you little boys don’t know yet how to act in a house where there’s sick mammas and little babies.”
“Oh, yes, we do,” said Budge. “All we’ve got to do is to sit still an’ look at ’em with all our mights.”
“Only dzust dzump up ev’ry two or free minutes to kiss ’em,” suggested Toddie.
“Yes,” said Budge, “an’ to pat their cheeks an’ to put nice things to eat in their mouths, like papa an’ mamma does to us, when we’re sick.”
“An’ make music for ’em,” said Toddie.
“An’ give ’em pennies,” said Budge.
“An’ shake their savings banks for ’em to make de pennies rattle, like Budgie did for me once when I was too sick to rattle my own bank,” said Toddie, bestowing a frantic hug upon his brother.