I turned my eyes upward quickly, and was about to send a savage negative in the same direction, when I saw in the window a face unknown and yet remembered. Could those great, wistful eyes, that angelic mouth, that spiritual expression, belong to my nephew Budge? Yes, it must be certainly that super-celestial nose and those enormous ears never belonged to anyone else. I turned abruptly, and entered the house, and was received at the head of the stairway by two little figures in white, the larger of which remarked:—
"We want you to tell us stories—papa always does nights."
"Very well, jump into bed—what kind of stories do you like?"
"Oh, 'bout Jonah," said Budge.
"'Bout Jonah," echoed Toddie.
"Well, Jonah was out in the sun one day, and a gourd-vine grew up all of a sudden, and made it nice and shady for him, and then it all faded as quick as it came."
A dead silence prevailed for a moment, and then Budge indignantly remarked:
"That ain't Jonah a bit—I know 'bout Jonah."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said I. "Then maybe you'll be so good as to enlighten me?"
"Huh?"