Ted shouted. But there was nothing funny in what I said. Boys are so silly.
“Anyway, I am sorry you didn’t tell him,” I said.
“Well, I’m not,” declared papa.
The rest of the day fairly flew. The last night came, and the baby was put to bed. I undressed him, which he regarded as such a joke that he worked himself into a fever of excitement. He loves to scrub like Josie, the cook. I had bought him a little red pail, and I gave it to him that night when he was partly undressed, and he was so enchanted with it that he scampered around hugging it, and saying, “Pile! pile!” like a little Cockney. He gave such squeals of ecstasy that everybody came into the nursery to find him scrubbing his crib with a nail-brush and little red pail.
“Who gave you the pretty pail, Billy?” asked Aunt Lida, who was sitting by the crib.
“Tattah,” said Billy, in a whisper. He always whispers my name.
“Then go and kiss dear auntie. She is going away on the big boat to stay such a long time.”
Billy’s face sobered. Then he dropped his precious pail, and came and licked my face like a little dog, which is his way of kissing.
I squeezed him until he yelled.
“Don’t let him forget me,” I wailed. “Talk to him about me every day. And buy him a toy out of my money often, and tell him Tattah sent it to him. Oh, oh, he’ll be grown up when I come home!”