"Toddie," said I, in a tone so persuasive that it would be worth
thousands a year to me, as a salesman, if I could only command it
at will; "Toddie, don't you want to ride on uncle's back?"
"No: want my dolly's k'adle."
"Don't you want me to tell you a story?"
For a moment Toddie's face indicated a terrible internal conflict
between old Adam and mother Eve, but curiosity finally overpowered
natural depravity, and Toddie murmured:--
"Yesh."
"What shall I tell you about?"
"'Bout Nawndeark."
"About WHAT?"
"He means Noah an' the ark," exclaimed Budge.
"Datsh what _I_ shay--Nawndeark," declared Toddie.
"Well," said I, hastily refreshing my memory by picking up the
Bible,--for Helen, like most people, is pretty sure to forget to
pack her Bible when she runs away from home for a few days,--
"well, once it rained forty days and nights, and everybody was
drowned from the face of the earth excepting Noah, a righteous
man, who was saved, with all his family, in an ark which the Lord
commanded him to build."
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, after contemplating me with open eyes
and mouth for at least two minutes after I had finished, "do you
think that's Noah?"
"Certainly, Budge; here's the whole story in the Bible."
"Well, _I_ don't think it's Noah one single bit," said he, with
increasing emphasis.
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