“Why!” exclaimed Budge.  “Are grown folks as smart, as all that?”

Mrs. Burton’s conscience smote her not over-lightly, and she hastened to change the subject, and to devote herself assiduously to Budge, as if to atone for some injury which she might have done to his brother.  An occasional howl which fell from the attic-window increased her zeal for Budge’s comfort.  Under each one, however, her resolution grew weaker, and finally, with a hypocritical excuse to Budge, Mrs. Burton hurried up to the door of Toddie’s prison, and said through the keyhole: 

“Toddie?”

“What?” said Toddie.

“Will you be a good-boy, now!”

“Yesh, if you’ll take me a-widin’.”

Mrs. Burton turned abruptly away, and simply flew down the stairs.  Budge, who awaited her at the foot, instinctively stood aside, and exclaimed: 

“My!  I thought you was goin’ to tumble!  Why didn’t you bring him down?”

“Bring who?” asked Mrs. Burton, indignantly.

“Oh, I know what you went up-stairs for?” said Budge.  “Your eyes told me all about it.”

“You’re certainly a rather inconvenient companion,” said Mrs. Burton, averting her face, “and I want you to run home and ask how your mamma and baby-sister are.  Don’t stay long; remember that lunch will be earlier than usual to-day.”

Away went Budge, and Mrs. Burton devoted herself to thought and self-questioning.  Unquestioning obedience had been her own duty since she could remember, yet she was certain that her will was as strong as Toddie’s.  If she had been always able to obey, certainly the unhappy little boy in the attic was equally capable—­why should he not do it?  Perhaps, she admitted to herself, she had inherited a faculty in this direction, and perhaps—­yes, certainly, Toddie had done nothing of the sort.  How was she to overcome the defect in his disposition; or was she to do it at all?  Was it not something with which no one temporarily having a child in charge should interfere?  As she pondered, an occasional scream from Toddie helped to unbend the severity of her principles, but suddenly her eye rested upon a picture of her husband, and she seemed to see in one of the eyes a quizzical expression.  All her determination came back in an instant with heavy reinforcements, and Budge came back a few minutes later.  His bulletins from home, and his stores of experiences en route consumed but a few moments, and then Mrs. Burton proceeded to dress for her ride.  To exclude Toddie’s screams she closed her door tightly, but Toddie’s voice was one with which all timber seemed in sympathy, and it pierced door and window apparently without effort.  Gradually, however, it seemed to cease, and with the growing infrequency of his howls and the increasing feebleness of their utterance, Mrs. Burton’s spirits revived.  Dressing leisurely, she ascended Toddie’s prison to receive his declaration of penitence and to accord a gracious pardon.  She knocked softly at the door, and said: