THE GENERAL FELL INTO THE POND
“Ow—ow—ow!” howled Toddie, clasping the skirt of his aunt’s mauve silk in a ruinous embrace, while the general floundered and snorted like a whale in dying agonies and Budge laughed as merrily as if the whole scene had been provided especially for his entertainment. Mrs. Burton hurried her nephews away, forgetting, in her mortification, to thank the general for his service, and placing a hand over Toddie’s mouth.
“It hurts!” mumbled Toddie.
“What did you touch the fish at all for?” asked Mrs. Burton.
“It was a little baby-lobster,” sobbed Toddie, “an’ I loves little babies—all kinds of ’em—an’ I wanted to pet him. An’ den I wanted to grop him.”
“Why didn’t you do it?” demanded the lady.
“’Cauzh he wouldn’t grop,” said Toddie. “He isn’t all gropped yet.”
True enough, the claw of the fish still hung at Toddies finger, and Mrs. Burton spoiled a pair of four-button kids in detaching it, while Budge continued to laugh. At length, however, mirth gave place to brotherly love, and Budge tenderly remarked:
“Toddie dear, don’t you love Bother Budgie?”
“Yesh,” sobbed Toddie.