"Perhaps, if
I let you shriek your abominable little throat hoarse, you'll
learn better than to torment your uncle, that was just getting
ready to love you dearly."
"Uncle Har-RAY!"
"Howl, away, you little imp," thought I. "You've got me wide
awake, and your lungs may suffer for it." Suddenly I heard,
although in sleepy tones, and with a lazy drawl, some words which
appalled me. The murmurer was Toddie:--
"Want--she--wheels--go--wound."
"Budge!" I shouted, in the desperation of my dread lest Toddie,
too, might wake up, "what DO you want?"
"Uncle Harry!"
"WHAT!"
"Uncle Harry, what kind of wood are you going to make the whistle
out of?"
"I won't make any at all--I'll cut a big stick and give you a
sound whipping with it, for not keeping quiet, as I told you to."'
"Why, Uncle Harry, papa don't whip us with sticks--he spanks us."
Heavens! Papa! papa! papa! Was I never to have done with this
eternal quotation of "papa"? I was horrified to find myself
gradually conceiving a dire hatred of my excellent brother-in-law.
One thing was certain, at any rate: sleep was no longer possible;
so I hastily dressed, and went into the garden. Among the beauty
and the fragrance of the flowers, and in the delicious morning
air, I succeeded in regaining my temper, and was delighted, on
answering the breakfast-bell, two hours later, to have Budge
accost me with:--
"Why, Uncle Harry, where was you? We looked all over the house for
you, and couldn't find a speck of you.
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