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Habberton, John, 1842-1921

"Helen's Babies"


"Who taught you all that, Toddie?" asked one of the ladies.
"Nobody didn't taught me--I lyned [Footnote: learned] it."
"When did you learn it?"
"Lyned it zish mornin'. Ocken Hawwy said it over, an' over, an'
over, djust yots of timezh, out in ze garden."
The ladies all exchanged glances--my lady readers will understand
just how, and I assure gentlemen that I did not find their glances
at all hard to read. Alice looked at me inquiringly, and she now
tells me that I blushed sheepishly and guiltily. Poor Mrs. Mayton
staggered to a chair, and exclaimed:--
"Too late! too late!"
Considering their recent achievements, Toddie and Budge were a
very modest couple as I drove them home that evening. Budge even
made some attempt at apologizing for their appearance, saying that
they couldn't find Maggie, and COULDN'T wait any longer; but I
assured him that no apology was necessary. I was in such excellent
spirits that my feeling became contagious; and we sang songs, told
stories, and played ridiculous games most of the evening, paying
but little attention to the dinner that was set for us.
"Uncle Harry," said Budge, suddenly, "do you know we haven't ever
sung,--'Drown old Pharaoh's Army Hallelujah,' since you've been
here? Let's do it now." "All right, old fellow." I knew the song
--such as there was of it--and its chorus, as EVERY one does who
ever heard the Jubilee Singers render it; but I scarcely
understood the meaning of the preparations which Budge made.


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