"Oh, they swing us—lots!" said Budge, with brightening eyes.
"An' zey takes us to get jacks," observed Toddie.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Budge; "jacks-in-the-pulpit,—don't you know?"
"Hum—ye—es; I do remember some such thing in my youthful days; they grow where there's plenty of mud, don't they?"
"Yes, an' there's a brook there, an' ferns, an' birchbark, an' if you don't look out you'll tumble into the brook when you go to get birch."
"An' we goes to Hawksnest Rock," piped Toddie, "an' papa carries us up on his back when we gets tired."
"An' he makes us whistles," said Budge.
"Budge," said I, rather hastily, "enough. In the language of the poet
'These earthly pleasures I resign'
and I'm rather astonished that your papa hasn't taught you to do likewise. Don't he ever read to you?"