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Andrew had said his say, and now he wanted to get on with his work. "Isn't that a splendid thought?" said Ambrose as he and David turned away. "I shall take Jack over with me to-morrow morning in a basket, and put him into Dr Budge's cage." "How do you suppose he'll call him back?" said David, who had become deeply interested. "P'r'aps he'll be miles and miles away."
One little cloud, however, shadowed Budge's relief. She wished she hadn't sent the letter to the lawyer-man. "If I'd remembered how my grandmother always said to look out for the written word, and held my tongue," she mourned and so complete was her transformation that she forgot she had written that letter while in full pursuit of her duty to the Forsyths as she had seen it then.
Harkness knew that it had long been Mrs. Budge's custom to make a two day trip to New York during the week preceding Christmas. They could take advantage of her absence. "Well, I guess we can borrow enough, Missy, to do." And no one thought of smiling at his "we" for, indeed, everyone there felt that he or she had a share in Robin's House of Laughter.
"I knew Old Man Chance had a happy coincidence up his sleeve somewhere," he declared with profound and joyous conviction. "Are you a friend of Budge's?" "Friend doesn't half express it! He made the touchdown that won me a clean hundred last season. Outside of that I wouldn't know him from Henry Ford. You see how Fate binds us together."
I dropped the turtle in Budge's wheelbarrow, and made a tour of the flower-borders. The flowers, always full of suggestion to me, seemed suddenly to have new charms and powers; they actually impelled me to try to make rhymes, me, a steady white-goods salesman! The impulse was too strong to be resisted, though I must admit that the results were pitifully meager:
She is the greatest grande dame one could meet, and a Tory to the backbone in politics, but her manner to the servants is not nearly so haughty as Mr. Budge's. I do not like his hands; I cannot say why; they are neither big nor ill-shapen, but there is something fat and feminine about the fingers. I dare say, underneath, he could be like Augustus.
Nay, so cordial was their intimacy, and so much had Miss Marion regained health and cheerfulness, that with unwonted sportiveness, on more than one occasion she actually hid the ponderous brown snuff-box, usually reposing in Mr Budge's capacious pocket, and only produced it when his distress became real; whereupon he chuckled and laughed, as if she had performed a mighty clever feat, indulging at the same time, however, in a double pinch.
With things at sixes and sevens I have enough to do!" But Mrs. Budge's tone had softened. And she had enjoyed hearing young voices and eager steps in the old house and had caught herself that very morning, as she helped Chloe stuff the turkey, singing: "Oh, com-m-me let 'tus a-dor-r-re Him."
He meant that his table was full, and that he did not care to crowd it; but there was no use in imparting this circumstance to the Colonel. "Friday, we dine at Judge Budge's queer name, Judge Budge, ain't it? Saturday, I'm going down to Marblehead, to look after the hay. Come on Monday, Tom, and I'll introduce you to the missus and the young 'uns."
There Percival Tubbs patiently explained, for the hundredth time, with just what words she must greet her guests, as Harkness announced them; and Robin listened dutifully, with her thoughts on the hillside beyond the long windows where already red sleds were flying up and down the snowy slope and childish voices were lifting in glee. True to Mrs. Budge's predictions, Mrs.
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