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In 't that a nite tory, you ser-weet ittle Mit Vildy Tummins?" Samantha hardly knew why the tears should spring to her eyes as she watched the dinner party, unless it was because we can scarcely look at little children in their unconscious play without a sort of sadness, partly of pity and partly of envy, and of longing too, as for something lost and gone.
"You 's doin' to have a new ittle sit-ter to-mowowday, if you 's a dood ittle dirl an does to seep nite an kick, you ser-weet ittle Vildy Tummins!" An I'll tell you nite ittle tory to-night, tause you isn't seepy. Wunt there was a ittle day hen 'at tole a net an' laid fir-teen waw edds in it, an bime bye erleven or seventeen ittle chits f'ew out of 'em, an Mit Vildy 'dopted 'em all!
"Home ser-weet home," he repeated sentimentally "home among the horses where some Roman-nosed, camel-backed, slant-eared nag is probably waitin' to kick daylight out'r me! Ladies, farewell!" he added, tripping up on his spurs and waving his hand vaguely. "Cav'lry's eyes 'n' ears 'f army! 'Tain't the hind legs' No no! I'm head 'n' ears army! 'n' I wan' t' go home."
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