Mr. Toby stared without speaking, and then threw out both his arms, and for a moment it looked as if he were going to hug the Little Boy, but he evidently thought better of it. "Are you--? Why, of course you are! Ain't I been telling you? But don't you go and presume on it too much, young feller! You don't think you can go and smoke cigarettes now, just because you're grown up, do you?" "Oh no, sir," said Freddie, earnestly. "I should hope not. And that there Chinaman's head up there--you don't think you can go and smoke that magic tobacco now, do you? Because if you do!" "No, sir," said Freddie; but he said this a little doubtfully, and he looked at the Chinaman's head with more interest than ever. What was the use of being grown up if you couldn't take a little risk now and then? "All right, then!" cried Mr. Toby. "We've got to have a little celebration over this here event, and we'd better go in and see Aunt Amanda about it, right now!" He grasped Freddie's hand again, and pulled him to the back door, and through into the back room where Aunt Amanda was sitting by the table with the wax flowers, sewing. "Quick! quick! Tell Aunt Amanda your name now, quick! What's your name?" cried Mr. Toby. "Freddie!" said the Little Boy, very distinctly, but looking down at the carpet, for fear he should seem proud. "We're grown up today," cried Mr. Toby, "and we've got to celebrate!" Aunt Amanda raised her eyebrows in astonishment, and said: "Esheeraybysart!" She put her hand to her mouth and somehow got out into her hand a good mouthful of pins. She laid them down on the table at her elbow, and said: "Bless the dear baby's heart! And are you grown up now?" "Yes'm," said Freddie, looking up and then down again, for he did not wish to seem too proud. Aunt Amanda looked at him for a moment, and took out her handkerchief and blew her nose very loud. "Toby," she said, "what did you mean by a celebration?" "Tomorrow's Saturday," said he. "Well, what of it?" Freddie could not understand very well what they were saying after that, except that he was concerned in it somehow, until he heard Aunt Amanda say: "You'd better ask his mother, then." "Young man," said Mr. Toby, "if I write a letter to your ma, will you give it to her?" "Yes, sir," said Freddie, whereupon Mr. Toby sat down at the other side of the table, with pen and paper and ink, and commenced to write. "First," said Aunt Amanda, "there's some of that fruit-cake from last Christmas still in the--" "Right you are!" cried Toby, jumping up and going out into the kitchen. Freddie ate the fruit-cake, sitting on a hassock at Aunt Amanda's feet, while Toby went on with his letter, but in the midst of it Toby went out again, and finally came back with a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade. "Don't you go and spill it on the carpet," said he, as he sat down to his writing. "No, sir," said Freddie.