“And cake, too?” asked Toddie. “Mamma always gives us cakesh when she’s tellin’ us stories, so we’ll sit still an’ not wriggle about.”
“No cakes,” said Mrs. Burton, kindly but firmly. “Eating between meals spoils the digestion of little boys, and makes them very cross.”
“I guess that’s what was the matter with Terry yesterday, then,” said Budge. “He was eatin’ a bone between meals, out in the garden yesterday afternoon, and when I took hold of his back legs and tried to play that he was a wheelbarrow, he bit me.”
Mr. Burton gave the dog Terry a sympathetic pat and a bit of meat, making him stand on his hind legs and beg for the latter, to the great diversion of the children. Then, with an affectionate kiss and a look of tender solicitude he wished his wife a happy day and hurried off to the city. Mrs. Burton took the children into the library and picked up a Bible.
“What sort of story would you like first?” she asked, as she slowly turned the leaves.
“One ’bout Abraham, ’cause he ’most killed somebody,” said Toddie, eagerly.
“Oh, no,” said Budge; “one about Jesus, because He was always good to everybody.”
“Dear child,” exclaimed Mrs. Burton. “Goodness always makes people nice, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Budge; “’cept when they talk about it to little boys. Say, Aunt Alice, what makes good folks always die?”
“Because the Lord needs them, I suppose, Budge.”