The sound of little footsteps receded as I turned over and closed my eyes. Speedily the bird-song seemed to grow fainter; my thoughts dropped to pieces; I seemed to be floating on fleecy clouds, in company with hundreds of cherubs with Budge’s features and night-drawers— “Uncle Harry!” May the Lord forget the prayer I put up just then! “I’ll discipline you, my fine little boy,” thought I. “Perhaps, if I let you shriek your abominable little throat hoarse, you’ll learn better than to torment your uncle, that was just getting ready to love you dearly.” “Uncle Har—_ray_!” “Howl away, you little imp,” thought I. “You’ve got me wide awake, and your lungs may suffer for it.” Suddenly I heard, although in sleepy tones, and with a lazy drawl, some words which appalled me. The murmurer was Toddie:— “Want—shee—wheels—go—wound.” “Budge!” I shouted, in the desperation of my dread lest Toddie, too, might wake up, “what _do_ you want?” “Uncle Harry!” “WHAT!” “Uncle Harry, what kind of wood are you going to make the whistle out of?” “I won’t make any at all—I’ll cut a big stick and give you a sound whipping with it, for not keeping quiet, as I told you to.” “Why, Uncle Harry, papa don’t whip us with sticks—he spanks us.” [Illustration: “PAPA DON’T WHIP US WITH STICKS”] Heavens! Papa! papa! papa! Was I never to have done with this eternal quotation of “papa”? I was horrified to find myself gradually conceiving a dire hatred of my excellent brother-in-law. One thing was certain, at any rate: sleep was no longer possible; so I hastily dressed and went into the garden. Among the beauty and the fragrance of the flowers, and in the delicious morning air, I succeeded in regaining my temper, and was delighted, on answering the breakfast-bell, two hours later, to have Budge accost me with:— “Why, Uncle Harry, where was you? We looked all over the house for you, and couldn’t find a speck of you.” The breakfast was an excellent one. I afterward learned that Helen, dear old girl, had herself prepared a bill of fare for every meal I should take in the house. As the table talk of myself and nephews was not such as could do harm by being repeated, I requested Maggie, the servant, to wait upon the children, and I accompanied my request with a small treasury note. Relieved, thus, of all responsibility for the dreadful appetites of my nephews, I did full justice to the repast, and even regarded with some interest and amusement the industry of Budge and Toddie with their tiny forks and spoons. They ate rapidly for a while, but soon their appetites weakened and their tongues were unloosed. “Ocken Hawwy,” remarked Toddie, “daysh an awfoo funny chunt up ’tairs—awfoo _big_ chunt. I show it you after brepspup.” “Toddie’s a silly little boy,” said Budge, “he always says brepspup for brekbux.”[3] [3] Breakfast. “Oh! What does he mean by chunt, Budge?” “I _guess_ he means trunk,” replied my oldest nephew.