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Updated: June 13, 2025
In the contemplation of all the shy possibilities my short chat with Miss Mayton had suggested, I had quite forgotten my dusty clothing and the two little living causes thereof. II. The Fate of a Bouquet Next morning at breakfast Toddie remarked, "Ocken Hawwy, darsh an awfoo funny chunt upstairs. I show it to you after brepspup."
"What DOES he mean?" asked Miss Mayton. "He wants Uncle Harry to sing, 'Charley boy one day," explained Budge; "he always wants that song when he's hurt any way." "Oh, do sing it to him, Mr. Burton," pleaded Miss Mayton; and all the other ladies exclaimed, "Oh, do!" I wrathfully picked him up in my arms, and hummed the air of the detested song. "Sit in a wockin'-chair," sobbed Toddie.
"How young you must be, then, Miss Mayton!" said I. I suppose I looked at her as if I meant what I said, for, although she inclined her head and said, "Oh, thank you," she didn't seem to turn my compliment off in her usual invulnerable style.
She accepted my apology for Toddie with queenly graciousness, and then, instead of proposing that we should follow the other ladies, as a moment before I had hoped she would, she dropped into a chair. I accepted the invitation; the children should have been in bed half an hour before, but my sense of responsibility had departed when Miss Mayton appeared.
Mayton, Budge climbed into her lap and began at once to make payment. "Bless your dear little heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Mayton; "you're of the same blood, and it IS good, if it IS rather hasty." As I arose the next morning, I found a letter under my door.
The moment we were inside the hedge and Toddie saw a man going over the lawn with a lawn-mower, he shrieked: "Oh, deresh a cutter-grass!" and dropped the bouquet with the carelessness born of perfect ecstasy. I snatched it before it reached the ground, dragged the offending youth up the walk, saluted Miss Mayton, and told Toddie to give the bouquet to the lady.
Nothing happening in the course of conversation ever discomposed Alice Mayton for more than a hundred seconds, however, so she soon recovered her usual expression and self-command, as her next remark fully indicated. "I believe you arranged the floral decorations at the St. Zephaniah's Fair, last winter, Mr. Burton? 'Twas the most tasteful display of the season.
But she insisted, and the pleasure of submitting to her will was so great that I would have risked even greater mischief. So Miss Mayton sat down to dinner with Budge upon one side and Toddie on the other, while I was fortunately placed opposite, from which position I could indulge in warning winks and frowns. The soup was served.
"I don't think it's nice for to say that, when his stories are always about Joseph, an' Abraham, an' Moses, an' when Jesus was a little boy, an' the Hebrew children, an' lots of people that the Lord loved. An' he's awful 'fectionate, too." "Yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Mayton. "When we says our prayers we prays for the nice lady what he 'spects, an' he likes us to do it," continued Budge.
Could it be that ? I bent over her, and acted on Budge's suggestion. She raised her head slightly, and I saw that Alice Mayton had surrendered at discretion. Taking her hand, I offered to the Lord more fervent thanks than He had ever heard from me in church. Then Budge said, "I wants to kiss you, too."
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