“An’ put the room to rights for ’em,” said Budge.
“An’ bring ’em in nice mud-pies all ready baked, like I did once for Budgie, to play wif on de bed when he was sick,” said Toddie.
“An’ dance for ’em,” suggested Budge. “That’s the way I used to do for Baby Phillie, an’ it always made him happy.”
“An’ put up pictures on de wall for ’em,” said Toddie; “we’s got whole newspapers full that we’s cutted out up in your garret; and dere’s a whole bottle of mucilage——”
“My war file of illustrated papers!” explained Mr. Burton. “How did they find that? Oh, this cross of love!”
“Whole bottle of mucilage in papa’s room to stick ’em on wif,” continued Toddie; “an’ mamma’s room is nice pink, like de leaves of my scrap-book dat pictures look so pretty on.”
“And these are the child-ideas of being good and useful!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, as the boys forgot everything else in the discovery of their uncle’s razor-strop with an extension at one end.
“Yes,” sighed Mr. Burton, “and they’re not much nearer the proper thing, in spite of their good intentions, than the plans of grown people for the management of children, the reformation of the world, and a great many other things.”
“Harry!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton.
“No personal allusion, my dear,” said her husband, quickly. “I’d no thought of anything of the kind. Adults and children alike mean well enough; the difference is that the former wonder why their ideas are not appreciated while with the children the energies of parents and teachers are devoted to treating mistaken opinions as great sins. How many children could do the kindnesses which Budge and Toddie have devised out of the tenderness of their dear little hearts and not be scolded and whipped for their pains? Hosts of children have had all the good blood and kind heart and honest head scolded and beaten out of them, and only the baser qualities of their natures allowed to grow, and these only because in youth many of them are dormant and don’t make trouble.”