“Of course not,” said Budge.

“Oh, Izh I goin’ to be djessed up all nicey?” asked Toddie.  “Goody! goody! goody!”

I always thought my sister Helen had an undue amount of vanity, and here it was reappearing in the second generation.

“An’ I wantsh my shoes made all nigger,” said Toddie.

“What?”

“Wantsh my shoesh made all nigger wif a bottle-bwush, too,” said Toddie.

I looked appealingly at Budge, who answered:—­

“He means he wants his shoes blacked, with the polish that’s in a bottle, an’ you rub it on with a brush.”

“An’ I wantsh a thath on,” continued Toddie.

“Sash, he means,” said Budge.  “He’s awful proud.”

“An’ Ize doin’ to wear my takker-hat,” said Toddie.  “An’ my wed djuvs.”

“That’s his tassel-hat an’ his red gloves,” continued the interpreter.

“Toddie, you can’t wear gloves such hot days as these,” said I.

A look of inquiry was speedily followed by Toddie’s own unmistakable preparations for weeping; and as I did not want his eyes dimmed when his mother looked into them I hastily exclaimed:—­

“Put them on, then—­put on the mantle of rude Boreas, if you choose; but don’t go to crying.”

“Don’t want no mantle-o’-wude-bawyusses,” declared Toddie, following me phonetically, “wantsh my own pitty cozhesh, an’ nobody eshesh.”

“O Uncle Harry!” exclaimed Budge, “I want to bring mamma home in my goat-carriage!”

“The goat isn’t strong enough, Budge, to draw mamma and you.”

“Well, then, let me drive down to the depot just to show papa an’ mamma I’ve got a goat-carriage—­I’m sure mamma would be very unhappy when she found out I had one, and she hadn’t seen it first thing.”

“Well, I guess you may follow me down, Budge, but you must drive very carefully.”

“Oh, yes—­I wouldn’t get us hurt when mamma was coming, for ANYthing.”  “Now, boys,” said I, “I want you to stay in the house and play this morning.  If you go out of doors you’ll get yourselves dirty.”

“I guess the sun’ll be disappointed if it don’t have us to look at,” suggested Budge.

“Never mind,” said I, “the sun’s old enough to have learned to be patient.”

Breakfast over, the boys moved reluctantly away to the play-room, while I inspected the house and grounds pretty closely, to see that everything should at least fail to do my management discredit.  A dollar given to Mike and another to Maggie were of material assistance in this work, so I felt free to adorn the parlors and Helen’s chamber with flowers.  As I went into the latter room I heard some one at the wash-stand, which was in the alcove, and on looking I saw Toddie drinking the last of the contents of a goblet which contained a dark-colored mixture.

“Ize takin’ black medshin,” said Toddie; “I likes black medshin awfoo muts.”

“What do you make it of?” I asked, with some sympathy, and tracing parental influence again.  When Helen and I were children we spent hours in soaking liquorice in water and administering it as medicine.