"I'll do it as clane as a whistle, yer honor. Mistress Clarkson's cook an' mesilf understhand each other, an' I'm used to goin' up the back way. Dhivil a man can see but the angels, an' they won't tell." "Very well, Mike; here's a dollar for you; you'll find the box on the hat-rack in the hall." Half an hour later, while I sat in my chamber window, reading, I beheld Mike, cleanly shaved, dressed and brushed, swinging up the road, with my box balanced on one of his enormous hands. With a head full of pleasing fancies, I went down to supper. My new friends were unusually good. Their ride seemed to have toned down their boisterousness and elevated their little souls; their appetites exhibited no diminution of force, but they talked but little, and all that they said was smart, funny, or startling--so much so that when, after supper, they invited me to put them to bed, I gladly accepted the invitation. Toddie disappeared somewhere, and came back very disconsolate. "Can't find my dolly's k'adle," he whined. "Never mind, old pet," said I, soothingly. "Uncle will ride you on his foot." "But I WANT my dolly's k'adle," said he, piteously rolling out his lower lip. I remembered my experience when Toddie wanted to "shee wheels go wound," and I trembled. "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. "I'm beginning to think we read different Bibles, Budge; but let's hear YOUR version." "Huh?" "Tell ME about Noah, if you know so much about him."