“Of coursh we don’t,” said Toddie, “when we’s so awful full of uvver fings. I don’t know where I’zhe goin’ to put my dinner when it comes time to eat it.”
“Don’t fret about that, Tod,” said Budge. “Don’t you know papa says that the Bible says somethin’ that means ‘don’t worry till you have to’?”
Mrs. Burton raised her eyebrows with horror not unmixed with inquiry, and her husband hastened to give Budge’s sentiment its proper biblical wording, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” Mrs. Burton’ wonder was allayed by the explanation, although her horror was not, and she made haste to say:
“Boys, we will have a little Sunday-school, all by ourselves, in the parlor immediately after breakfast.”
“Hooray!” shouted Budge. “An’ will you give us a ticket an’ pass around a box for pennies, just like they do in big Sunday-schools?”
“I—suppose so,” said Mrs. Burton, who had not previously thought of these special attractions of the successful Sunday-school.
“Let’s go right in, Tod,” said Budge, “’cause the dog’s in there. I saw him as I came down, and I shut all the doors so he couldn’t get out. We can have some fun with him ’fore Sunday-school begins.”
Both boys started for the parlor-door, and, guided by that marvellous instinct with which Providence arms the few against the many, and the weak against the strong, the dog Terry, also approached the door from the inside. As the door opened there was heard a convulsive howl, and a general tumbling of small boys, while at almost the same instant Terry flew into the dining-room and hid himself in the folds of his mistress’s morning robe. Two or three minutes later Budge entered the dining-room with a very rueful countenance, and remarked:
“I guess we need that Sunday-school pretty quick, Aunt Alice. The dog don’t want to play with us, and we ought to be comforted some way.”
“They’re grown people, all over again,” remarked Mr. Burton, with a laugh.