Budge rushed at Tom,
exclaiming:--
"See my goat, papa!"
Helen opened her arms, and Toddie threw himself into them,
sobbing:--
"Mam--MA! shing 'Toddie one-boy-day!'"
How uncomfortable a man CAN feel in the society of a dearly-loved
sister and an incomparable brother-in-law I never imagined until
that short drive. Helen was somewhat concerned about the children,
but she found time to look at me with so much of sympathy, humor,
affection, and condescension that I really felt relieved when we
reached the house. I hastily retired to my own room, but before I
had shut the door Helen was with me, and her arms were about my
neck; before the dear old girl removed them we had grown far
nearer to each other than we had ever been before.
And how gloriously the rest of the day passed off. We had a
delightful little lunch, and Tom brought up a bottle of Roederer,
and Helen didn't remonstrate when he insisted on its being drank
from her finest glasses, and there were toasts drank to "Her" and
"Her Mother," and to the Benedict that was to be. And then Helen
proposed "the makers of the match--Budge and Toddie!" which was
honored with bumpers. The gentlemen toasted did not respond, but
they stared so curiously that I sprang from my chair and kissed
them soundly, upon which Tom and Helen exchanged significant
glances.
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