“He may tell his to-night, after Uncle Harry gets home,” said Mrs. Burton.
“An’ sit in a chair in the corner of the up-stairs room?” asked Budge.
“I hardly think that will be necessary this time,” answered the lady.
“Then I don’t think you punish fair a bit,” said Budge, with an aggrieved pout.
“I’ll be dzust as sad as I can ’bout it, Budgie,” said Toddie, with a brotherly kiss.
The boys were led off by the chambermaid to be dressed and Mrs. Burton seated herself and devoted herself to earnest thought. Time was flying, her husband had been between dark and breakfast-time most exasperatingly solicitous as to the success of his wife’s theories of government, and not even her genius of self-defense had prevailed against him. She felt that so far she had been steadily vanquished. Her husband had told her in other days that it was always so with the best generals in their first engagements, so she determined that if men had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, she should be able to do so as well. Her desperation at the thought of a long lifetime of “I told you so’” from her husband made her determine that no discomfort should prevent the most earnest endeavor for success.
The luncheon bell aroused her from what had become a reverie in the valley of humiliation, and she found awaiting her at the table her nephews—Budge in a jaunty sailor-suit and Toddie in a clean dress and an immaculate white apron. An old experience caused her to promptly end some researches of Toddie’, instituted to discover whether his aunt’ dishes were really “turtle-pyates,” and an attempt by Budge to drop oysters in the mouth of the dog Terry, as he had seen his uncle do with bread-crusts in the morning, was forcibly brought to a close. Beyond the efforts alluded to, the children did nothing worse than people in good society often do at table. After luncheon, Mrs. Burton said:
“Now, boys, this is Aunt Alice’s receptionday. I will probably have several calls, and every one will want to know about that dear little new baby, and you must be there to tell them. So you must keep yourselves very neat and clean. I know you wouldn’t like to see any dirty people in my parlor!”
“Hatesh to shtay in parlors,” said Toddie. “Wantsh to go and get some jacks” (“Jack-in-the-pulpit”—a swamp plant).
“Not to-day,” said Mrs. Burton, kindly, but firmly. “No one with nice white aprons ever goes for jacks. What would you think if you saw me in a swampy, muddy place, with a nice white apron on, hunting for jacks!”