I looked appealingly at Budge, who answered:--

"He means he wants his shoes blacked, with the polish that's in a
bottle, an' you rub it on with a brush."

"An' I wantsh a thath on," continued Toddie.

"Sash, he means," said Budge. "He's awful proud."

"An' Ize doin' to wear my takker-hat," said Toddie. "An' my wed
djuvs."

"That's his tassel-hat an' his red gloves," continued the
interpreter.

"Toddie, you can't wear gloves such hot days as these," said I.

A look of inquiry was speedily followed by Toddie's own
unmistakable preparations for weeping; and as I did not want his
eyes dimmed when his mother looked into them I hastily exclaimed:--

"Put them on, then--put on the mantle of rude Boreas, if you
choose; but don't go to crying."

"Don't want no mantle-o'-wude-bawyusses," declared Toddie,
following me phonetically, "wantsh my own pitty cozhesh, an'
nobody eshesh."

"O Uncle Harry!" exclaimed Budge, "I want to bring mamma home in
my goat-carriage!"