“Why, I’d fink you could bring home more’n me, ’cause your apron would hold the mosht,” Toddie replied.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Budge, calling Toddie into a corner and whispering earnestly to him. The purity of Budge’s expression of countenance and the tender shyness with which he avoided her gaze when he noticed that it was upon him, caused Mrs. Burton to instinctively turn her head away, out of respect for what she believed to be a childish secret of some very tender order. Glancing at the couple again for only a second, she saw that Toddie, too, seemed rather less matter-of-fact than usual. Finally both boys started out of the doorway, Budge turning and remarking with inflections simply angelic:
“Will be back pretty soon, Aunt Alice.”
Mrs. Burton proceeded to dress; she idly touched her piano, until one lady after another called, and occupied her time. Suddenly, while trying to form a good impression on a very dignified lady of the old school, both boys marched into the parlor from the dining-room. Mrs. Burton motioned them violently away, for Budge’s trousers and Toddie’ apron were as dirty as they well could be. Neither boy saw the visitor, however, for she was hidden by one of the wings which held the folding-doors, so both tramped up to their aunt, while Budge exclaimed:
“Folks don’t go to heaven the second day, anyhow, for we just dug up the bird to see, an’ he was there just the same.”
“And dere wazh lots of little ants dere wiv him,” said Toddie. “Is dat ’cause dey want to got to hebben, too, an’ wantsh somebody wif wings to help ’em up?”
“Budge!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, in chilling tones; “how did all this dirt come on your clothes?”
“Why, you see,” said the boy, edging up confidentially to his aunt, and resting his elbows on her knee as he looked up into her face, “I couldn’t bear to put the dear little birdie in the ground again without sayin’ another little prayer. And I forgot to brush my knees off.”
“Toddie,” said Mrs. Burton, “you couldn’t have knelt down with your stomach and breast. How did you get your nice white apron so dirty?”
Toddie looked at the apron and then at his aunt—looked at a picture or two, and then at the piano—followed the cornice-line with his eye, seemed suddenly to find what he was looking for, and replied: