“An’ all of a sudden I said ’fynes!’ [ferns],” said Toddie.
“Yes,” said Budge, “Tod said it first, but I thought it the same second. An’ there’ lovely ferns up in the rocks. Don’t you see?”
Mrs. Burton looked, and shuddered. The cliff above her head was a hundred feet high, jagged all over its front, yet from every crevice exquisite ferns posed their peaceful fronds before the cold gray of the rock.
“’Twasn’t here,” Budge continued. “’Twas ’way up around the corner, where the rocks ain’t so high, but they’re harder to climb. We climbed up here first.”
“You dreadful, darling children!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, giving Budge a squeeze of extra severity. “To think of two little children going up such a dreadful place! Why, it makes me dizzy to see your Uncle Harry do it.”
“Ain’t childrens, when we climb mountainsh!” asserted Toddie; “we’zh mans den.”
“Well,” Budge continued, “we got lots, and throwed each one away ’cause we kept seein’ nicer ones higher up. Say, Aunt Alice, what’s the reason things higher up always look extra nice?”
“I know,” said Toddie.
“Why is it, Toddie?” Mrs. Burton asked.
“’Cauzh deysh closer to hebben,” said Toddie. “G’won, Budgie. I likes to hear ’bout it, too.”