"I always think that looks like heaven."
"What does?"
"Why, all that,—from here over to that other sky 'way back there behind everything I mean. And I think that (here he pointed toward what probably was a photographer's roof-light)—that place where it's so shiny, is where God stays."
Bless the child! The scene had suggested only elfindom to me, and yet I prided myself on my quick sense of artistic effects.
"An' over there where that awful bright little speck is," continued Budge, "that's where dear little brother Phillie is; whenever I look over there, I see him putting his hand out."
"Dee 'ittle Phillie went to s'eep in a box, and ze Lord took him to heaven," murmured Toddie, putting together all he had seen and heard of death. Then he raised his voice and exclaimed:—
"Ocken Hawwy, you know what Iz'he goin' do when I be's big man? Iz'he goin' to have hosses an' tarridge, an' Iz'he goin' to wide over all ze chees an' all ze houses an' all ze world an' ewyfing. An' whole lots of little birdies is comin' in my tarridge an' sing songs to me, an' you can come too if you want to, an' we'll have ice-cream an' trawberries an' see 'ittle fishes swimmin' down in ze water, an' we'll get a g'eat big house that's all p'itty on the outshide an' all p'itty on the inshide, an' it'll all be ours an' we'll do just ewyfing we want to."
"Toddie, you're an idealist."
"Ain't a 'dealisht."
"Toddie's a goosey-gander," remarked Budge, with great gravity. "Uncle Harry, do you think heaven's as nice as that place over there?"