"Ah—ah—ah—ah—ee—ee—ee!" sounded afar off, but fatefully. It came nearer—it came down the stairway and into the library, accompanied by Toddie, who, on spying me, dropped his inarticulate utterance, held up both hands, and exclaimed:—
"Djonah bwoke he tay-al!"
True enough; in one hand Toddie held the body of a mouse, and in the other that animal's caudal appendage; there was also perceptible, though not by the sense of sight, an objectionable odor in the room.
"HE'S GOT A DEAD MOUSE TO BE JONAH NOW"
"Toddie," said I, "go throw Jonah into the chicken coop, and I'll give you some candy."
"Me too," shouted Budge, "'cos I found the mouse for him."
I made both boys happy with candy, exacted a pledge not to go out in the rain, and then, turning them loose on the piazza, returned to my book. I had read, perhaps, half a dozen pages, when there arose and swelled rapidly in volume a scream from Toddie. Madly determined to put both boys into chairs, tie them, and clap adhesive plaster over their mouths, I rushed out upon the piazza.
"Budgie tried to eat my candy," complained Toddie.