“Listen, Toddie,” said Mrs. Burton, with an imperious stamp of her foot, and a sudden loss of her entire stock of patience. “If you say one more word about that trip, I shall lock you in the attic chamber, where you were the day before yesterday, and Budge shall not be with you.”
Toddie gave vent to a torrent of tears, and screamed:
“A—h—h—h! I don’t want to be locked up, an’ I do want to go a-widin’!”
HE KICKED, PUSHED, SCREAMED AND ROARED
Toddie suddenly found himself clasped tightly in his aunt’ arms, in which position he kicked, pushed, screamed and roared during the passage of two flights of stairs. The moment of his final incarceration was marked by a piercing shriek which escaped from the attic-window, causing the dog Terry to retire precipitately from a pleasing lounging place on the well-curb, and making a passing farmer to rein up his horses and maintain a listening position for the space of five minutes. Meanwhile Mrs. Burton descended to the parlor, more flushed, untidy and angry than any one had ever seen her. She soon encountered the gaze of her nephew Budge, and it was full of solemnity, inquiry and reproach.
“How would you like to be carried up-stairs screamin’ an’ put in a lonely room, just ’cause you wanted to go ridin’?” Budge asked.
Mrs. Burton was unable to imagine herself in any such position, but replied:
“I should never be so foolish as to keep on wanting what I knew I could not have.”
“Why!” exclaimed Budge. “Are grown folks as smart as all that?”