“Funniest thing I ever saw!” said March, giving a hoarse chuckle. “Such tots! Biggest only four years old; t’other not a year. There was a pussy too. They three—true, on my word—were the only creatures in the house that night.”
“Where could their father and mother be?” asked Max, excessively interested.
“Oh! went off that morning to the town,—like fools,—and couldn’t get back. We saw to that. Stuck in ten drifts, most frozen to death. Wife half-crazy about the babies; husband just managed to get to shelter. Ho! ho!” cried March. “Served ’em right, I say. Ho! ho!
“Don’t you think, that Tot, the biggest one, was putting a stick of wood on the fire when I looked in? Stick as big as she was, almost! How she did it was a mystery. Little apron blew into the flame, but I flew up the chimney and blew it the other way. ’Tisn’t often I do a good turn, but I couldn’t help it then.”
“That was right,” said Thekla.
“Hold your tongue!” cried March, rudely. “What do you know about it? Two sticks that little thing got on. I never did! How she managed it, and such a baby!
“Then she put a shawl over the other tot. Patted the corners down just like an old woman, and put one on herself. Hind side before, but no matter for that. Then she got into bed, and sang, ‘Hush by, Budda,—hus’ by, Budda,’ till the baby went to sleep. Then she went to sleep too. I thought I’d like to see what would happen when they woke up, so I sent the snow-storm on and stayed behind with my eye to the chink.
“I’m not a tender-hearted person myself,” said March, modestly, “but really I couldn’t bear to disturb those children. Several times I wanted to roar dreadfully,—roaring is one of my greatest pleasures,—but I didn’t. I never quite knew why, but so it was. The snow isn’t noisy, so it was as still all night about the little house as if it had been mid-summer.
“I watched, and the children slept. By and by when morning came, the baby woke up and began to cry. The Tot patted him and said, ‘Hush-a-by, Budda,’ a great many times; but he wouldn’t stop. Babies don’t stop,” added March, reflectively, “as a general thing. Then the Tot said, ‘Budda hundry;’ and she got up, and tugged and tugged to put a stick on the fire, and fetched a tin cup and spoon, and set them on a chair by the table where there was a milk-pan. She had to tip it with her little hands, and a great deal spilled on the floor and a great deal on her apron, but some went in the cup. She began to cry at first; then she said, ‘Mamie didn’t mean to,’ and brightened up again. And she warmed the milk and fed that baby like a woman,” cried March, giving his knee a great slap. “I never did! Baby ate it all, and went to sleep again. Tot drank some too, but not much. Wanted to save it for the baby, I guess.
“It was a very cold day. I kept in a long time; but at last I had to howl or I should have burst. Tot got frightened. She said her little prayers, and hid her head under the pillow; but when the other cried, she stopped, and gave him some milk, and sang, ‘Hush by, Budda,’ till he went off again. I tell you what,” said March, “I did feel sorry for that child.