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But that ain't the way it works out, for generally, we don't want anything special, and he seems so wrapped up in his private little affairs that it don't seem worth while breakin' in on his program. Course, maulin' Buddy around may seem to us like a frivolous pastime, but how can you tell if it ain't the serious business in life to 'Ikky-boy just then? Besides, Buddy seems to like it.
In fact, as Harry Lander used to put it, vurra well acquainted. Chummy, I might say. Why not, after we've stood two years of each other without any serious dispute? Not that I'm claimin' any long-distance record as a model parent. No. I expect I do most of the things I shouldn't and only a few of them that I should. But 'Ikky-boy ain't a critical youngster.
'Ikky-boy wanna ride hossy," says he. "And me with my trousers just pressed!" says I. "Say, where do you get that stuff?" "I must say," comes in Auntie, "that I don't consider that the proper way to talk to a child." "Oh, he don't mind," says I. "But he is so apt to learn such expressions and use them himself," says she. "Yes, he picks up a lot," says I. "He's clever that way.
Aren't you, you young tarrier?" "Whe-e-e!" says 'Ikky-boy, slidin' off my knee to make a dive at Buddy and roll him on the floor. "One should speak gently to a child," says Auntie, "and use only the best English." "I might be polite to him," says I, "if he'd be polite to me, but that don't seem to be his line." Auntie shrugs her shoulders and gives us up as hopeless.
"Lay off 'at, tant you?" says he "Oo oo give 'Ikky-boy a big pain, Oo does. G'way!" "Why, how rude!" says Mrs. Butt, gazin' around bewildered; and then, as she spots that approvin' smile on Auntie's face, she turns red in the ears. Say, I don't know when I've seen the old girl look so tickled over anything. What she's worked up is almost a grin. And there's no doubt that Mrs.
"I ain't worryin' if she never comes back," says I, "only I'd just promised Auntie to train 'Ikky-boy to talk different and " "Under similar provocation," says Auntie, "I might use the same expressions if I knew how." "Hip, hip, for Auntie!" I sings out. "And as for your not knowin' how, that's easy fixed. 'Ikky-boy and I will give you lessons."
And say, after he'd finished his play and was about ready to be tucked into his crib, what does the young jollier do but climb up in Auntie's lap and cuddle down folksy, all on his own motion. "Do you like your old Auntie, Richard?" she asks, smoothin' his red curls gentle. "Uh-huh," says 'Ikky-boy, blinkin' up at her mushy. "Oo's a swell Auntie." Are we back in the will again? I'll guess we are.
Finally we end up on the big davenport in front of the fireplace and indulge in a few minutes of lively chat. "Well, 'Ikky-boy, how you and Buddy been behavin' yourselves, eh?" I'll ask. "Which has been the worst cut-up today, eh?" "Buddy bad dog," he'll say, battin' him over the head with a pink fist. "See?" And he'll exhibit a tear in his rompers or a chewed sleeve. "Huh!
She's just tryin' to haul off one of his shoes when 'Ikky-boy cuts loose with the rough motions, fists and feet both in action, until she has to straighten up to save her hat and her hair. "Dess one 'ittle toe-tiss?" she begs. "Say," demands 'Ikky-boy, pushin' her face away fretful, "where oo get 'at stuff?" "Wha-a-at?" gasps Mrs. Butt.
So after more or less maneuverin' I untangles the two, shuts Buddy in another room, and deposits 'Ikky-boy, still kickin' and strugglin' indignant, in whatever lap Mrs. Butt has to offer. Then she proceeds to rave over him. It's enough to make you seasick. Positively. "Oh, what exquisite silky curls of spun gold!" she gushes.
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