"_I_ don"t think it does; and Toddie didn"t have no time to say HIS blessin". I don"t think the Lord"ll like it if you do it that way."
"Yes, he will, old boy; he knows what people mean."
"Well, how can he tell what Toddie means if Toddie can"t say anything?"
"Wantsh to shay my blessin"," whined Toddie.
It was enough; my single encounter with Toddie had taught me to respect the young gentleman"s force of character. So again I bowed my head, and repeated what Budge had reported as "papa"s blessin"," Budge kindly prompting me where my memory failed. The moment I began, Toddie commenced to jabber rapidly and aloud, and the instant the "Amen" was p.r.o.nounced he raised his head and remarked with evident satisfaction:--
"I shed my blessin" TWO timesh."
And Budge said gravely:--
"NOW I guess we are all right."
The supper was an exquisite one, but the appet.i.tes of those dreadful children effectually prevented my enjoying the repast. I hastily retired, called the girl, and instructed, her to see that the children had enough to eat, and were put to bed immediately after; then I lit a cigar and strolled into the garden. The roses were just in bloom, the air was full of the perfume of honeysuckles, the rhododendrons had not disappeared, while I saw promise of the early unfolding of many other pet flowers of mine. I confess that I took a careful survey of the garden to see how fine a bouquet I might make for Miss Mayton, and was so abundantly satisfied with the material before me that I longed to begin the work at once, but that it would seem too hasty for true gentility. So I paced the paths, my hands behind my back, and my face well hidden by fragrant clouds of smoke, and went into wondering and reveries. I wondered if there was any sense in the language of flowers, of which I had occasionally seen mention made by silly writers; I wished I had learned it if it had any meaning; I wondered if Miss Mayton understood it. At any rate, I fancied I could arrange flowers to the taste of any lady whose face I had ever seen; and for Alice Mayton I would make something so superb that her face could not help lighting up when she beheld it. I imagined just how her bluish-gray eyes would brighten, her cheeks would redden,--not with sentiment, not a bit of it; but with genuine pleasure,--how her strong lips would part slightly and disclose sweet lines not displayed when she held her features well in hand. I--I, a clear-headed, driving, successful salesman of white goods--actually wished I might be divested of all nineteenth-century abilities and characteristics, and be one of those fairies that only silly girls and crazy poets think of, and might, unseen, behold the meeting of my flowers with this highly cultivated specimen of the only sort of flowers our cities produce. What flower did she most resemble?
A lily?--no; too--not exactly too bold, but too--too, well, I couldn"t think of the word, but clearly it wasn"t bold. A rose! Certainly, not like those glorious but blazing remontants, nor yet like the shy, delicate, ethereal tea-roses with their tender suggestions of color.
Like this perfect Gloire de Dijon, perhaps; strong, vigorous, self-a.s.serting, among its more delicate sisterhood; yet shapely, perfect in outline and development, exquisite, enchanting in its never fully-a.n.a.lyzed tints, yet compelling the admiration of every one, and recalling its admirers again and again by the unspoken appeal of its own perfection--its unvarying radiance.
"Ah--h--h--h--ee--ee--ee--ee--ee--oo--oo--oo--oo" came from the window over my head. Then came a shout of--"Uncle Harry!" in a voice I recognized as that of Budge. I made no reply: there are moments when the soul is full of utterances unfit to be heard by childish ears.
"Uncle Har-RAY!" repeated Budge. Then I heard a window-blind open, and Budge exclaiming:--
"Uncle Harry, we want you to come and tell us stories."
I turned my eyes upward quickly, and was about to send a savage negative in the same direction, when I saw in the window a face unknown and yet remembered. Could those great, wistful eyes, that angelic mouth, that spiritual expression, belong to my nephew Budge? Yes, it must be--certainly that super-celestial nose and those enormous ears never belonged to any one else. I turned abruptly, and entered the house, and was received at the head of the stairway by two little figures in white, the larger of which remarked:--
"We want you tell us stories--papa always does nights."
"Very well, jump into bed--what kind of stories do you like?"
"Oh, "bout Jonah," said Budge.
""Bout Jonah," echoed Toddie.
"Well, Jonah was out in the sun one day and a gourd-vine grew up all of a sudden, and made it nice and shady for him, and then it all faded as quick as it came."
A dead silence prevailed for a moment, and then Budge indignantly remarked:--
"That ain"t Jonah a bit--_I_ know "bout Jonah."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said I. "Then maybe you"ll be so good as to enlighten me?"
"Huh?"
"If you know about Jonah, tell me the story; I"d really enjoy listening to it."
"Well," said Budge, "once upon a time the Lord told Jonah to go to Nineveh and tell the people they was all bad. But Jonah didn"t want to go, so he went on a boat that was going to Joppa. And then there was a big storm, an" it rained an" blowed and the big waves went as high as a house. An" the sailors thought there must be somebody on the boat that the Lord didn"t like. An" Jonah said he guessed HE was the man. So they picked him up and froed him in the ocean, an" I don"t think it was well for "em to do that after Jonah told the troof. An" a big whale was comin" along, and he was awful hungry, cos the little fishes what he likes to eat all went down to the bottom of the ocean when it began to storm, and whales can"t go to the bottom of the ocean, cos they have to come up to breeve, an" little fishes don"t. An" Jonah found "twas all dark inside the whale, and there wasn"t any fire there, an" it was all wet, and he couldn"t take off his clothes to dry, cos there wasn"t no place to hang "em, an" there wasn"t no windows to look out of, nor nothin" to eat, nor nothin" nor nothin" nor nothin." So he asked the Lord to let Mm out, an" the Lord was sorry for him, an" he made the whale go up close to the land, an" Jonah jumped right out of his mouth, an" WASN"T he glad? An" then he went to Nineveh, an" done what the Lord told him to, and he ought to have done it in the first place if he had known what was good for him."
"Done first payshe, know what"s dood for him," a.s.serted Toddie, in support of his brother"s a.s.sertion. "Tell us "nudder story."
"Oh, no, sing us a song," suggested Budge.
"Shing us shong," echoed Toddie.
I searched my mind for a song, but the only one which came promptly was "M"Appari," several bars of which I gave my juvenile audience, when Budge interrupted me, saying:--
"I don"t think that"s a very good song."
"Why not, Budge?"
"Cos I don"t. I don"t know a word what you"re talking "bout."
"Shing "bout "Glory, glory, hallelulyah,"" suggested Toddie, and I meekly obeyed. The old air has a wonderful influence over me. I heard it in western camp-meetings and negro-cabins when I was a boy; I saw the 22d Ma.s.sachusetts march down Broadway, singing the same air during the rush to the front during the early days of the war; I have heard it sung by warrior tongues in nearly every Southern State; I heard it roared by three hundred good old Hunker Democrats as they escorted New York"s first colored regiment to their place of embarkation; my old brigade sang it softly, but with a swing that was terrible in its earnestness, as they lay behind their stacks of arms just before going to action; I have heard it played over the grave of many a dead comrade; the semi-mutinous--the cavalry became peaceful and patriotic again as their band-master played the old air after having asked permission to try HIS hand on them; it is the same that burst forth spontaneously in our barracks, on that glorious morning when we learned that the war was over, and it was sung, with words adapted to the occasion, by some good rebel friends of mine, on our first social meeting after the war. All these recollections came hurrying into my mind as I sang, and probably excited me beyond my knowledge, for Budge suddenly remarked:--
"Don"t sing that all day, Uncle Harry; you sing so loud, it hurts my head."
"Beg your pardon, Budge," said I. "Good-night."
"Why, Uncle Harry, are you going? You didn"t hear us say our prayers,--papa always does."
"Oh! Well, go ahead."
"You must say yours first," said Budge; "that"s the way papa does."
"Very well," said I, and I repeated St. Chrysostom"s prayer, from the Episcopal service. I had hardly said "Amen," when Budge remarked:--
"My papa don"t say any of them things at all; I don"t think that"s a very good prayer."
"Well, you say a good prayer, Budge."
"Allright." Budge shut his eyes, dropped his voice to the most perfect tone of supplication, while his face seemed fit for a sleeping angel, then he said:--
"Dear Lord, we thank you for lettin" us have a good time to-day, an" we hope all the little boys everywhere have had good times too. We pray you to take care of us an" everybody else to-night, an" don"t let "em have any trouble. Oh, yes, an" Uncle Harry"s got some candy in his trunk, cos he said so in the carriage,--we thank you for lettin" Uncle Harry come to see us, an" we hope he"s got LOTS of candy--lots an"
piles. An" we pray you to take good care of all the poor little boys and girls that haven"t got any papas an" mammas an" Uncle Harrys an"
candy an" beds to sleep in. An" take us all to Heaven when we die, for Christ"s sake. Amen. Now give us the candy, Uncle Harry."
"Hush, Budge; don"t Toddie say any prayers?"
"Oh yes; go on, Tod."
Toddie closed his eyes, wriggled, twisted, breathed hard and quick, acting generally as if prayers were princ.i.p.ally a matter of physical exertion. At last he began:--
"Dee Lord, not make me s...o...b..d, an" besh mamma, an" papa, an" Budgie, and doppity, [Footnote: Grandmother.] an" both boggies, [Footnote: Grandfathers.] an" all good people in dish house, and everybody else, an" my dolly. A--a--amen!"
"Now give us the candy," said Budge, with the usual echo from Toddie.
I hastily extracted the candy from my trunk, gave some to each boy, the recipients fairly shrieking with delight, and once more said good-night.
"Oh, you didn"t give us any pennies," said Budge. "Papa gives us some to put in our banks, every nights."