Mrs. Burton’s conscience smote her not overlightly, and she hastened to change the subject, and to devote herself assiduously to Budge, as if to atone for some injury which she might have done his brother. An occasional howl which fell from the attic-window increased her zeal for Budge’s comfort; under each one, however, her resolution grew weaker, and, finally, with a hypocritical excuse to Budge, she hurried up to the door of Toddie’s prison and said through the keyhole:
“Toddie?”
“What?”
“Will you be a good boy, now?”
“Yesh, if you’ll take me a-widin’.”
Mrs. Burton turned abruptly away, and simply flew down the stairs. Budge, who awaited her at the foot, instinctively stood aside, and exclaimed:
“I thought you was goin’ to tumble! Why didn’t you bring him down?”
“Bring who?”
“Oh, I know what you went up-stairs for,” said Budge. “Your eyes told me all about it.”
“You’re certainly a rather inconvenient companion,” said Mrs. Burton, averting her face, “and I want you to run home and ask how your mamma and baby-sister are. Don’t stay long: remember that luncheon will be earlier than usual to-day.”