"No; but I do want to go a-widin'."
"Listen Toddie," said Mrs. Burton, with an imperious stamp of her foot, and a sudden loss of her entire stock of patience. "If you say one more word about that trip, I will lock you up in the attic chamber, where you were day before yesterday, and Budge shall not be with you."
Toddie suddenly found himself clasped tightly
in his aunt's arms, in which position he kicked,
pushed, screamed, and roared, during the passage of
two flights of stairs.
Toddie gave vent to a perfect torrent of tears, and screamed:
"A—h—h—h! I don't want to be locked up, an' I do want to go a-widin'."
Toddie suddenly found himself clasped tightly in his aunt's arms, in which position he kicked, pushed, screamed, and roared, during the passage of two flights of stairs. The moment of his final incarceration was marked by a piercing shriek which escaped from the attic window, causing the dog Jerry to retire precipitately from a pleasing lounging-place on the well-curb, and making a passing farmer to rein up his horses, and maintain a listening position for the space of five minutes. Meanwhile Mrs. Burton descended to the parlor, more flushed, untidy and angry than one had ever before seen her. She soon encountered the gaze of her nephew Budge, and it was so full of solemnity that Mrs. Burton's anger departed in an instant.
"How would you like to be carried up-stairs screamin' an' put in a lonely room, just 'cause you wanted to go riding?" asked Budge.
Mrs. Burton was unable to imagine herself in any such position, but replied: