"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.
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