“’Coursh we did,” said Toddie, promptly; “dere’s a tyne-table at Hillcrest, an’annuvver at Dzersey City. How could choo-choos turn around if dere wasn’t?”
“It’s time to dress for breakfast now,” said Mrs. Burton in some confusion, as she departed.
The children appeared promptly at the table on the ringing of the bell and brought ravenous appetites with them. Mrs. Burton composed a solemn face, rapped on the table with the handle of the carving-knife, and all heads were bowed while the host and hostess silently returned thanks. When the adults raised their heads they saw that two juvenile faces were still closely hidden in two pairs of small hands. Mrs. Burton reverently nodded at each one to attract her husband’ attention, and mentally determined that souls so absorbed in thanksgiving were good ground for better spiritual seed than their parents had ever scattered. Slowly, however, twice ten little fingers separated, and very large eyes peeped inquiringly between them; then Budge suddenly dropped his hands, straightened himself in his chair, and said:
“Why, Uncle Harry! Have you been forgettin’ again how to ask a blessin’?”
And Toddie, looking somewhat complainingly at his uncle, and very hungrily at the steak, remarked:
“Said my blessin’ ’bout fifty timesh.”
“Once would have been sufficient, Toddie,” said Mrs. Burton.
“Why didn’t you say yoursh once, den?” asked Toddie.
“I did. We don’t need to talk aloud to have the Lord hear us,” explained Mrs. Burton.
“’Posin’ you don’t,” said Toddie, “I don’t fink it’s a very nysh way to do, to whisper fings to de Lord. When I whisper anyfing mamma says, ‘Toddie, what’s you whisperin’ for? You ’shamed of somefing?’s Guesh you an’ Uncle Harry’s bofe ’shamed at de same time.”