"Ain't from no Rommerys an' Crewnes," said Toddie. "Theysh from me an' Budge, an' we dzust tasted 'em to see if they'd got sour in the night."
"Where did the cards come from?" asked Mrs. Burton.
"Out of the basket in the parlor," said Budge; "but the back is the nice part of 'em."
Mrs. Burton's thoughtful expression and her husband's frown disappeared together, as they seated themselves at the table. Both boys wriggled rigorously until their aunt raised her plate, and then Budge exclaimed:
"A penny for each year, you know."
"Thirty-one!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, after counting the heap. "How complimentary!"
"What doesh you do for little boys on your bifeday?" asked Toddie, after breakfast was served. "Mamma does lots of fings."
"Yes," said Budge, "she says she thinks people ought to get their own happy by makin' other people happy. An' mamma knows better than you, you know, 'cause she's been married longest."
Although Mrs. Burton admitted the facts, the inference seemed scarcely natural, and she said so.
"Well—a—a—a—a—anyhow," said Toddie, "mamma always has parties on her bifeday, an' we hazh all the cake we want."