“Of _course_ Jonah’s gone,” said Budge, “he went to heaven long ago—pretty soon after he went to Nineveh an’ done what the Lord told him to do. Now swing us, Uncle Harry.” The swing was on the piazza under cover from the rain; so I obeyed. Both boys fought for the right to swing first, and when I decided in favor of Budge, Toddie went off weeping, and declaring that he would look at his dear whay-al anyhow. A moment later his wail changed to a piercing shriek; and, running to his assistance, I saw him holding one finger tenderly and trampling on a wasp. “What’s the matter, Toddie?” “Oo—oo—ee—ee—ee—_ee_—I putted my finger on a waps, and—oo—oo—the nasty old waps—oo—bited me. An’ I don’t like wapses a bit, but I likes whay-als—oo—ee—ee.” A happy thought struck me. “Why don’t you boys make believe that big packing-box in your play-room is a whale?” said I. A compound shriek of delight followed the suggestion, and both boys scrambled upstairs, leaving me a free man again. I looked remorsefully at the tableful of books which I had brought to read, and had not looked at for a week. Even now my remorse did not move me to open them—I found myself, instead, attracted toward Tom’s library, and conning the titles of novels and volumes of poems. My eye was caught by “Initials,” a love story which I had always avoided because I had heard impressionable young ladies rave about it; but now I picked it up and dropped into an easy chair. Suddenly I heard Mike, the coachman, shouting:— “Go ’way from there, will ye? Ah, ye little spalpeen, it’s good for ye that yer fahder don’t see ye perched up dhere. Go ’way from dhat, or I’ll be tellin’ yer uncle.” “Don’t care for nashty old uncle,” piped Toddie’s voice. I laid down my book with a sigh, and went into the garden. Mike saw me and shouted: “Mister Burthon, will you look dhere? Did ye’s ever see the loike av dhat bye?” Looking up at the play-room window, a long, narrow sort of loop-hole in a Gothic gable, I beheld my youngest nephew standing upright on the sill. “Toddie, go in—quick!” I shouted, hurrying under the window to catch him in case he fell outward. “I tan’t!” squealed Toddie. “Mike, run upstairs and snatch him in! Toddie, go in, I tell you!” “Tell you I _tan’t_ doe in,” repeated Toddie. “_Ze_ bid bots ish ze whay-al, an’ I’ze Djonah, an’ ze whay-al’s froed me up, an’ I’ze dot to ’tay up here else ze whay-al ’ill fwallow me aden.” “I won’t _let_ him swallow you. Get in now—hurry,” said I. “Will you give him a penny not to fwallow me no more?” queried Toddie. “Yes—a whole lot of pennies.” “Aw wight. Whay-al, don’t you fwallow me no more, an’ zen my Ocken Hawwy div you whole lots of pennies. You must be weal dood whay-al now, an’ then I buys you some tandy wif your pennies, an’——”