Helens Babies | Page 5

served the purpose of Israel in Egypt. When he paused and the dust had somewhat subsided, I beheld the unmistakable lineaments of the child Toddie!
"They're--my nephews," I gasped.
"What!" exclaimed the driver. "By gracious! I forgot you were going to Colonel Lawrence's! I didn't tell anything but the truth about 'em, though; they're smart enough, an' good enough, as boys go; but they'll never die of the complaint that children has in Sunday-school books."
"Budge," said I, with all the sternness I could command, "do you know me?"
The searching eyes of the embryo prophet and philanthropist scanned me for a moment, then their owner replied:--
"Yes; you're Uncle Harry. Did you bring us anything?"
"Bring us anything?" echoed Toddie.
"I wish I could have brought you some big whippings," said I, with great severity of manner, "for behaving so badly. Get into this carriage."
"Come on, Tod," shouted Budge, although Toddie's farther ear was not a yard from Budge's mouth. "Uncle Harry's going to take us riding!"
"Going to take us riding!" echoed Toddie, with the air of one in a reverie; both the echo and the reverie I soon learned were characteristics of Toddie.
As they clambered into the carriage I noticed that each one carried a very dirty towel, knotted in the center into what is known as a slip-noose knot, drawn very tight. After some moments of disgusted contemplation of these rags, without being in the least able to comprehend their purpose, I asked Budge what those towels were for.
"They're not towels--they're dollies," promptly answered my nephew.
"Goodness!" I exclaimed. "I should think your mother could buy you respectable dolls, and not let you appear in public with those loathsome rags."
"We don't like buyed dollies," explained Budge. "These dollies is lovely; mine's name is Mary, an' Toddie's is Marfa."
"Marfa?" I queried.
"Yes; don't you know about
"Marfa and Mary's jus' gone along To ring dem charmin' bells,
that them Jubilee sings about?"
"Oh, Martha, you mean?"
"Yes, Marfa--that's what I say. Toddie's dolly's got brown eyes, an' my dolly's got blue eyes."
"I want to shee yours watch," remarked Toddie, snatching at my chain, and rolling into my lap.
"Oh--oo--ee, so do I," shouted Budge, hastening to occupy one knee, and IN TRANSITU wiping his shoes on my trousers and the skirts of my coat. Each imp put an arm about me to steady himself, as I produced my three-hundred-dollar time-keeper and showed them the dial.
"I want to see the wheels go round," said Budge.
"Want to shee wheels go wound," echoed Toddie.
"No; I can't open my watch where there's so much dust," I said.
"What for?" inquired Budge.
"Want to shee the wheels go wound," repeated Toddie.
"The dust gets inside the watch and spoils it," I explained.
"Want to shee the wheels go wound," said Toddie, once more.
"I tell you I can't, Toddie," said I, with considerable asperity. "Dust spoils watches."
The innocent gray eyes looked up wonderingly, the dirty, but pretty lips parted slightly, and Toddie murmured:--
"Want to shee the wheels go wound."
I abruptly closed my watch and put it into my pocket. Instantly Toddie's lower lip commenced to turn outward, and continued to do so until I seriously feared the bony portion of his chin would be exposed to view. Then his lower jaw dropped, and he cried:--
"Ah--h--h--h--h--h--want--to--shee--the wheels--go wou--OUND."
"Charles" (Charles is his baptismal name),--"Charles," I exclaimed with some anger, "stop that noise this instant! Do you hear me?"
"Yes--oo--oo--oo--ahoo--ahoo."
"Then stop it."
"Wants to shee--"
"Toddie, I've got some candy in my trunk, but I won't give you a bit if you don't stop that infernal noise."
"Well, I wants to shee wheels go wound. Ah--ah--h--h--h--h!"
"Toddie, dear, don't cry so. Here's some ladies coming in a carriage; you wouldn't let THEM see you crying, would you? You shall see the wheels go round as soon as we get home."
A carriage containing a couple of ladies was rapidly approaching, as Toddie again raised his voice.
"Ah--h--h--wants to shee wheels--"
Madly I snatched my watch from my pocket, opened the case, and exposed the works to view. The other carriage was meeting ours, and I dropped my head to avoid meeting the glance of the unknown occupants, for my few moments of contact with my dreadful nephews had made me feel inexpressibly unneat. Suddenly the carriage with the ladies stopped. I heard my own name spoken, and raising my head quickly (encountering Budge's bullet head EN ROUTE to the serious disarrangement of my hat), I looked into the other carriage. There, erect, fresh, neat, composed, bright-eyed, fair- faced, smiling and observant,--she would have been all this, even if the angel of the resurrection had just sounded his dreadful trump,--sat Miss Alice Mayton, a lady who, for about a year, I had been adoring from afar.
"When did YOU arrive, Mr. Burton?" she asked, "and how long have you been officiating as child's companion? You're certainly a happy-looking trio--so unconventional. I hate to see children