"
"I'm afraid they were making fun of you--or me," said the old
lady, a little severely. "I don't know anything about little boys'
uncles. Now run away, and don't disturb me any more."
"Well," continued Budge, "they said your little girl went with
him, and you'd know when SHE would come back."
"I haven't any little girl," said the old lady, her indignation,
at a supposed joke, threatening to overcome her dignity. "Now, go
away."
"She isn't a VERY little girl," said Budge, honestly anxious to
conciliate; "that is, she's bigger'n _I_ am, but they said you was
her mother, an' so she's you're little girl, isn't she? _I_ think
she's lovely, too."
"Do you mean Miss Mayton?" asked the lady, thinking she had a
possible clue to the cause of Budge's anxiety.
"Oh, yes--that's her name--I couldn't think of it," eagerly
replied Budge. "An' ain't she AWFUL nice?--_I_ KNOW she is!"
"Your judgment is quite correct, considering your age," said Mrs.
Mayton, exhibiting more interest in Budge than she had heretofore
done. "But what makes you think she is nice? You are rather
younger than her male admirers usually are."
"Why, my Uncle Harry told me so," replied Budge, "an' HE knows
EVERYthing."
Mrs. Mayton grew vigilant at once, and dropped her book.
"Who IS your Uncle Harry, little boy?"
"He's Uncle Harry; don't you know him? He can make nicer whistles
than my papa can.
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