"I'll tell you how it was," remarked Budge, who appeared suddenly and without invitation, and whose consciousness of good intention made him as adamant before the indignant frowns of his uncle and aunt, "_I_ always think bonfires is the nicest things about celebrations, an' Tod an' me have been carryin' sticks for two days to make a big bonfire in the back yard to-day. But then it rained, an' rainy sticks won't burn--I _guess_ we found that out last Thanksgivin' Day. So we thought we'd make one in the cellar, 'cause the top is all tin, an' the bottom's all dirt, an' it can't rain in there at all. An' we got lots of newspapers and kindlin'-wood, an' put some kerosene on it, an' it blazed up beautiful, an' we was just comin' up to ask you all down to look at it, when in came Uncle Harry, an' banged me against the wall an' Tod into the coal-heap, an' threw a mean old dirty carpet on top of it, an' wet'ed it all over." "Little boysh never _can_ do anyfing nysh wivout bein' made to don't," said Toddie. "Dzust see what an awful big splinter I got in my hand when I was froin' wood on the fire! I didn't cry a _bit_ about it then, 'cause I fought I was makin' uvver folks happy, like the Lord wants little boysh to. But they didn't _get_ happy, so now I _am_ goin' to cry 'bout the splinter!" And Toddie raised a howl which was as much superior to his usual cry as things made to order generally are over the ordinary supply. "We had a torchlight procession, too," said Budge. "We had to have it in the attic, but it wasn't very nice. There wasn't any trees up there for the light to dance around on, like it does on 'lection-day nights. So we just stopped, an' would have felt real doleful if we hadn't thought of the bonfire." "Where did you leave the torches?" asked Mr. Burton, springing from his chair, and lifting his wife to her feet at the same time. "I--I dunno," said Budge, after a moment of thought. "Froed 'em in a closet where the rags is, so's not to dyty the nice floor wif 'em," said Toddie. Mr. Burton hurried up-stairs and extinguished a smoldering heap of rags, while his wife, truer to herself than she imagined she was, drew Budge to her, and said, kindly: "_Wanting_ to make people happy, and _doing_ it are two very different things, Budge." "Yes, I should think they was," said Budge, with an emphasis which explained much that was left unsaid. "Little boysh is goosies for tryin' to make big folksh happy at all," said Toddie, beginning again to cry. "Oh, no, they're not, dear," said Mrs. Burton, taking the sorrowful child into her lap. "But they don't always understand how best to do it, so they ought to ask big folks before they begin." "Then there wouldn't be no s'prises," complained Toddie. "Say; izh we goin' to eat all this supper?" "I suppose so, if we can," sighed Mrs. Burton. "I _guesh_ we can--Budgie an' me," said Toddie. "An' _won't_ we be glad all them wimmens wented away!"