"Let's have some fun, Budge--don't you want to frolic?"

"No; I don't think frolic is nice."

"Don't you want some candy, Budge?"

"No--you ain't GOT no candy, I bleeve."

"Well, you sha'n't have any if you don't stop being so cross."

The only reply to this was a mighty and audible rustling of the bedding in the boys' room, followed by a sound strongly resembling that caused by a slap; then came a prolonged wail, resembling that of an ungreased wagon-wheel.

"What's the matter, Toddie?"

"Budge s'apped me--ah--h--h--h!"

"What made you slap your brother, Budge?"

"I DIDN'T."

"You DID," screamed Toddie.

"I tell you I didn't--you're a naughty, bad boy to tell such lies, Toddie."

"What DID you do, Budge?" I asked.

"Why--why--I was--I was turnin' over in bed, an' my hand was out, and it tumbled against to Toddie--that's what."

By this time I was dressed and in the boy's room. Both my nephews were sitting up in bed, Budge looking as sullen as an old jail-bird, and Toddie with tears streaming all over his face.

"Boys," said I, "don't be angry with each other--it isn't right. What do you suppose the Lord thinks when he sees you so cross to each other?"

"He don't think noffin'," said Budge; "you don't think he can look through a black sky like that, do you?"

"He can look anywhere, Budge, and he feels very unhappy when he sees little brothers angry with each other."

"Well, I feel unhappy, too--I wish there wasn't never no old rain, nor nothin'."

"Then what would the plants and flowers do for a drink, and where would the rivers come from for you to go sailing on?"

"An' wawtoo to mate mud-pies," added Toddie. "You's a naughty boy, Buggie;" and here Toddie's tears began to flow afresh.

"I AIN'T a bad boy, an' I don't want no old rain nohow, an' that's all about it. An' I don't want to get up, an' Maggie must bring me up my breakfast in bed."

"Boo--hoo--oo," wept Toddie, "wants my brepspup in bed too."

"Boys," said I, "now listen. You can't have any breakfast at all unless you are up and dressed by the time the bell rings. The rising bell rang some time ago. Now dress like good boys, and you shall have some breakfast, and then you'll feel a great deal nicer, and then Uncle Harry will play with you and tell you stories all day long."

Budge crept reluctantly out of bed and caught up one of his stockings, while Toddie again began to cry.

"Toddie," I shouted, "stop that dreadful racket, and dress yourself.

What are you crying for?"

"Well, I feelsh bad."

"Well, dress yourself, and you'll feel better."

"Wantsh YOU to djesh me."

"Bring me your clothes, then--quick!"

Again the tears flowed copiously. "Don't WANT to bring 'em," said Toddie.

"Then come here!" I shouted, dragging him across the room, and s.n.a.t.c.hing up his tiny articles of apparel. I had dressed no small children since I was rather a small boy myself, and Toddie's clothing confused me somewhat. I finally got something on him, when a contemptuous laugh from Budge interrupted me.

"How you goin' to put his shirt on under them things?" queried my oldest nephew.

"Budge," I retorted, "how are you going to get any breakfast if you don't put on something besides that stocking?"

The young man's countenance fell, and just then the breakfast bell rang. Budge raised a blank face, hurried to the head of the stairs and shouted:--

"Maggie?"

"What is it, Budge?"

"Was--was that the rising-bell or the breakfast-bell?"

"'Twas the breakfast-bell."

There was dead silence for a moment, and then Budge shouted:--

"Well, we'll call that the risin'-bell. You can ring another bell for breakfast pretty soon when I get dressed." Then this volunteer adjuster of household affairs came calmly back and commenced dressing in good earnest, while I labored along with Toddie's wardrobe.

"Where's the b.u.t.ton-hook, Budge?" said I.

"It's--I--oh--um--I put it--say, Tod, what did you do with the b.u.t.ton-hook yesterday?"

"Didn't hazh no b.u.t.ton-hook," a.s.serted Toddie.

"Yes, you did; don't you remember how we was a playin' draw teef, an'

the doctor's dog had the toofache, and I was pullin' his teef with the b.u.t.ton-hook, an' you was my little boy, an' I gived the toof-puller to you to hold for me? Where did you put it?"

"I'D no," replied Toddie, putting his hand in his pocket and bringing out a sickly-looking toad.

"Feel again," said I, throwing the toad out the window, where it was followed by an agonizing shriek from Toddie. Again he felt, and his search was rewarded by the tension screw of Helen's sewing-machine.

Then I attempted some research myself, and speedily found my fingers adhering to something of a sticky consistency. I quickly withdrew my hand, exclaiming:--

"What nasty stuff HAVE you got in your pocket, Toddie?"

"'Taint nashty' tuff--it's byead an' 'la.s.ses, an' its nice, an' Budge an' me hazh little tea-parties in de kicken-coop, an' we eats it, an'