“TurnbackPharo’sarmyhallelujah,” repeated Budge. “Don’t you know how Moses held his cane out over the Red Sea, an’ the water went ’way up one side, an’ ’way up the other side, and all the Isrulites went across? It’s just the same thing as _drown_ old Pharo’s army hallelujah—don’t you know.” “Budge,” said I; “I suspect you of having, heard the Jubilee Singers.” “Oh, an’ papa an’ mamma sings us all those jubilee songs—there’s ‘Swing Low,’ an’ ‘Roll Jordan,’ an’ ‘Steal Away,’ an’ ‘My Way’s Cloudy,’ an’ ’Get on Board, Childuns,’ an’ lots. An’ you can sing us every one of ’em.” “An’ papa takes us in the woods and makesh us canes,” said Toddie. [Illustration: PUTTING AN EXTENSION ON THE AFTERNOON] “Yes,” said Budge, “and where there’s new houses buildin’, he takes us up ladders.” “Has he any way of putting an extension on the afternoon?” I asked. “I don’t know what that is,” said Budge, “but he puts an India-rubber blanket on the grass, and then we all lie down and make b’lieve we’re soldiers asleep. Only sometimes when we wake up, papa stays asleep, an’ mamma won’t let us wake him. I don’t think that’s a very nice play.” “Well, I think Bible stories are nicer than anything else, don’t you?” Budge seemed somewhat in doubt. “I think swingin’ is nicer,” said he—“oh, no;—let’s get some jacks—_I’ll_ tell you what!—make us whistles, an’ we can blow on ’em while we’re goin’ to get the jacks. Toddie, dear, wouldn’t _you_ like jacks an’ whistles?” “Yesh—an’ swingin’—an’ birch—an’ wantsh to go to Hawksnesh Rock,” answered Toddie. “Let’s have Bible stories first,” said I. “The Lord mightn’t like it if you didn’t learn anything good to-day.” “Well,” said Budge, with the regulation religious-matter-of-duty face, “let’s. I guess I like ’bout Joseph best.” “Tell us ’bout Bliaff,” suggested Toddie. “Oh, no, Tod,” remonstrated Budge; “Joseph’s coat was just as bloody as Goliath’s head was.” Then Budge turned to me and explained that “all Tod likes Goliath for is ’cause when his head was cut off it was all bloody.” And then Toddie—the airy sprite whom his mother described as being irresistibly drawn to whatever was beautiful—Toddie glared upon me, as a butcher’s apprentice might stare at a doomed lamb, and remarked:— “Bliaff’s head was all bluggy, an’ David’s sword was all bluggy—bluggy as everyfing.” I hastily breathed a small prayer, opened the Bible, turned to the story of Joseph, and audibly condensed it, as I read: “Joseph was a good little boy, whose papa loved him very dearly. But his brothers didn’t like him. And they sold him to go to Egypt. And he was very smart, and told people what their dreams meant, and he got to be a great man. And his brothers went to Egypt to buy corn, and Joseph sold them some, and then he let them know who he was. And he sent them home to bring their papa to Egypt, and then they all lived there together.”