It was with a sneaking sense of relief that Mrs. Burton awoke on the following morning, and realized that the day was Sunday. Even schoolteachers have two days of rest in every seven, thought Mrs. Burton to herself, and no one doubts that they deserve them. How much more deserving of rest and relief, then, must be the volunteer teacher who, not for a few hours only, but from dawn to twilight, has charge of two children whose capacity for both learning and mischief, surely equals any school-full of boys? The realization that she was attempting, for a few days only, that which mothers everywhere were doing without hope of rest excepting in heaven, made Mrs. Burton feel more humble and worthless than she had ever done in her life before, but it did not banish her wish to turn the children over to the care of their uncle for the day. If Mrs. Burton had been honest with herself she would have admitted that the principal cause of her anxiety for relief was her unwillingness to have her husband witness the failures which she had come to believe were to be her daily lot while trying to train her nephews. Thoughts of a Sunday excursion, from participation in which she should in some way excuse herself; of volunteering to relieve her sister-in-law's nurse during the day, and thus leaving her husband in charge of the house and the children; of making that visit to her mother which is always in order with the newly-made wife--all these, and other devices not so practicable, came before Mrs. Burton's mind's eye for comparison, but they all and together took sudden wing when Mr. Burton awoke and complained of a raging toothache. Truly pitiful and sympathetic as Mrs. Burton was, she exhibited remarkable resignation in the face of the thought that her husband would probably need to remain in his room all day, and that it would be absolutely necessary to keep the children out of his sight and hearing. Then he could find nothing to criticise; she might fail as frequently as she probably would, but he would know only of her successes.

A light knock was heard at Mrs. Burton's door, and then, without waiting for invitation, there came in two fresh, rosy faces, two heads of disarranged hair, and two long white nightgowns, and the occupant of the longer gown exclaimed:

"Say, Uncle Harry, do you know it's Sunday? What are you going to do about it? We always have lots done for us Sundays, 'cause it's the only day papa's home."

"Yes, I--think I've heard--something of the kind--before," mumbled Mr.

Burton, with difficulty, between the fingers which covered his aching incisor.

"Oh--h," exclaimed Toddie, "I b'lieve he' goin' to play bear! Come on, Budge, we's got to be dogs." And Toddie buried his face in the bed-covering and succeeded in fastening his teeth in his uncle's calf. A howl from the sufferer did not frighten off the amateur dog, and he was finally dislodged only by being clutched by the throat by his victim.

"_That_ izhn't the way to play bear," complained Toddie; "you ought to keep on a-howlin' an' let me keep on a-bitin', an' then you give me pennies to stop--that's the way papa does."

"_Can_ you see how Tom Lawrence can be so idiotic?" asked Mrs. Burton.

"I suppose I could," replied the gentleman, "if I hadn't such a toothache."

"You poor old fellow!" said Mrs. Burton, tenderly. Then she turned to her nephews, and exclaimed: "Now, boys, listen to me! Uncle Harry is very sick to-day--he has a dreadful toothache, and every particle of bother and noise will make it worse. You must both keep away from his room, and be as quiet as possible wherever you may be in the house. Even the sound of people talking is very annoying to a person with the toothache."

"Then you's a baddy woman to stay in here an' keep a-talkin' all the whole time," said Toddie, "when it makes poor old Uncle Harry supper so.

G'way."

Mrs. Burton's lord and master was not in too much pain to shake considerably with silent laughter over this unexpected rebuke, and the lady herself was too thoroughly startled to devise an appropriate retort; so the boys amused themselves by a general exploration of the chamber, not omitting even the pockets of their uncle's clothing. This work completed, to the full extent of their ability, the boys demanded breakfast.

"Breakfast won't be ready until eight o'clock," said Mrs. Burton, "and it is now only six. If you little boys don't want to feel dreadfully hungry, you had better go back to bed, and lie as quiet as possible."

"Is that the way not to be hungry?" asked Toddie, with wide-open eyes, which always accompany the receptive mind.

"Certainly," said Mrs. Burton. "If you run about, you agitate your stomachs, and that makes them restless, and so you feel hungry."

"Gwacious!" said Toddie. "What lots of fings little boys has got to lyne (learn), hazn't they? Come on, Budgie--let's go put our tummuks to bed, an' keep 'em from gettin' ajjerytated."

"All right," said Budge. "But say, Aunt Alice, don't you s'pose our stomachs would be sleepier an' not so restless if there was some crackers or bread an' butter in 'em?"

"There's no one down-stairs to get you any," said Mrs. Burton.

"Oh," said Budge, "_we_ can find them. We know where everything is in the pantries and store-room."

"_I_ wish _I_ were so smart," sighed Mrs Burton. "Go along--get what you want--but don't come back to this room again. And don't let me find anything in disorder down-stairs, or I shall never trust you in my kitchen again."

Away flew the children, but their disappearance only made room for a new torment, for Mr. Burton stopped in the middle of the operation of shaving himself, and remarked:

"I've been longing for Sunday to come, for your sake, my dear. The boys, as you have frequently observed, have very strange notions about holy things; but they are also, by nature, quite religious and spiritually minded. _You_ are not only this latter, but you are free from strange doctrines and the traditions of men. The mystical influences of the day will make themselves felt upon those innocent little hearts, and you will have the opportunity to correct wrong teachings and instil new sentiments and truths."

Mr. Burton's voice had grown a little shaky as he reached the close of this neat and reverential speech, so that his wife scrutinized his face closely to see if there might not be a laugh somewhere about it. A friendly coating of lather protected one cheek, however, and the troublesome tooth had distorted the shape of the other, so Mrs. Burton was compelled to accept the mingled ascription of praise and responsibility, which she did with a sinking heart.

"I'll take care of them while you're at church, my dear," said Mr.

Burton; "they're always saintly with sick people."

Mrs. Burton breathed a sigh of relief. She determined that she would extemporize a special "Children's service" immediately after breakfast, and impress her nephews as fully as possible with the spirit of the day; then if her husband would but continue the good work thus begun, it would be impossible for the boys to fall from grace in the few hours which remained between dinner-time and darkness. Full of her project, and forgetting that she had allowed her chambermaid to go to early Mass and promised herself to see that the children were dressed for breakfast, Mrs. Burton, at the breakfast-table, noticed that her nephews did not respond with their usual alacrity to the call of the bell.

Recalling her forgotten duty, she hurried to the boys' chamber, and found them already enjoying a repast which was remarkable at least for variety. On a small table, drawn to the side of the bed, was a pie, a bowl of pickles, a dish of honey in the comb, and a small paper package of cinnamon bark, and, with spoons, knives and forks and fingers, the boys were helping themselves alternately to these delicacies. Seeing his aunt, Toddie looked rather guilty, but Budge displayed the smile of the fully justified, and remarked:

"Now, you know what kind of meals little boys like, Aunt Alice. I hope you won't forget it while we're here."

"What do you mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, sternly, "by bringing such things up-stairs?"

"Why," said Budge, "you told us to get what we wanted, an' we supposed you told the troof."

"An' I ain't azh hungry azh I wazh," remarked Toddie, "but my tummuk feels as if it growed big and got little again, every minute or two, an'

it hurts. I wishes we could put tummuks away when we get done usin' 'em, like we do hats an' overshoes."

To sweep the remains of the unique morning lunch into a heap and away from her nephews, was a work which occupied but a second or two of Mrs.

Burton's time; this done, two little boys found themselves robed more rapidly than they had ever before been. Arrived at the breakfast-table, they eyed with withering contempt an irreproachable cutlet, some crisp-brown potatoes of wafer-like thinness, and a heap of rolls almost as light as snowflakes.

"_We_ don't want done of _this_ kind of breakfast," said Budge.

"Of course we don't," said Toddie, "when we's so awful full of uvver fings. I don't know where I'zhe goin' to put my _dinner_ when it comes time to eat it."

"Don't fret about _that_, Tod," said Budge. "Don't you know papa says that the Bible says something that means 'don't worry till you have to.'"

Mrs. Burton raised her eyebrows with horror not unmixed with inquiry, and her husband hastened to give Budge's sentiment its proper Biblical wording. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Mrs. Burton's wonder was allayed by the explanation, although her horror was not, and she made haste to say:

"Boys, we will have a little Sunday-school, all by ourselves, in the parlor, immediately after breakfast."

"Hooray!" shouted Budge. "An' will you give us a ticket an' pass around a box for pennies, just like they do in _big_ Sunday-schools?"

"I--suppose so," said Mrs. Burton, who had not previously thought of these special attractions of the successful Sunday-school.

"Let's go right in, Tod," said Budge,"'cause the dog's in there. I saw him as I came down, and I shut all the doors, so he couldn't get out. We can have some fun with him 'fore Sunday-school begins."

Both boys started for the parlor-door, and, guided by that marvelous instinct with which Providence arms the few against the many, and the weak against the strong, the dog Jerry also approached the door from the inside. As the door opened, there was heard a convulsive howl, and a general tumbling of small boys, while at almost the same instant the dog Jerry flew into the dining-room and hid himself in the folds of his mistress's morning-robe. Two or three minutes later Budge entered the dining-room with a very rueful countenance, and remarked:

"I guess we need that Sunday-school pretty quick, Aunt Alice. The dog don't want to play with us, and we ought to be comforted some way."

"They're grown people, all over again," remarked Mr. Burton, with a laugh.

"What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Burton.

[Illustration: TODDIE LOOKED RATHER GUILTY, BUT BUDGE DISPLAYED THE SMILE OF THE FULLY JUSTIFIED, AND REMARKED: "NOW YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF MEALS LITTLE BOYS LIKE, AUNT ALICE."]

"Only this--that when their own devices fail, they're in a hurry for the consolations of religion," said Mr. Burton. "May I visit the Sunday-school?"

"I suppose I can't keep you away," sighed Mrs. Burton, leading the way to the parlor. "Boys," said she, greeting her nephews, "first, we'll sing a little hymn; what shall it be?"

"Ole Uncle Ned," said Toddie, promptly.

"Oh, that's not a Sunday song," said Mrs. Burton.

"_I_ fink tizh," said Toddie, "'cause it sayzh, free or four timezh, 'He's gone where de good niggers go,' an' that's _hebben_, you know; so it's a Sunday song."