“I—I dunno,” said Budge, after a moment of thought.
“Froed ’em in a closet so’s not to dyty de nice floor wif ’em,” said Toddie.
Mr. Burton hurried up-stairs and extinguished a smoldering heap of rags, while his wife, truer to herself than she imagined she was, drew Budge to her, and said, kindly:
“Wanting to make people happy, and doing it, are two very different things, Budge.”
“Yes, I should think they was,” said Budge, with an emphasis which explained much that was left unsaid.
“Little boysh is goosies for tryin’ to make big folksh happy at all,” said Toddie, beginning again to cry.
“Oh, no, they’re not, dear,” said Mrs. Burton, taking the sorrowful child on her lap. “But they don’t always understand how best to do it, so they ought to ask big folks before they begin.”
“Den dere wouldn’t be no s’prises,” complained Toddie. “Say, izh we goin’ to eat all dis supper?”
“I suppose so, if we can,” sighed Mrs. Burton.
“I guesh we can—Budgie an’ me,” said Toddie. “An’ won’t we be glad all them wimmens wented away!”