ite goods houses,
no doubtful customers, no business competition, no politics, gold
rooms, stock-boards, doubtful banks, political scandals, personal
iniquity, nor anything which should prevent a short vacation from
lasting through a long lifetime.

The next morning would have struck terror to the heart of any one but a
newly accepted lover. Rain was falling fast, and in that steady,
industrious manner which seemed to assert an intention to stick closely
to business for the whole day. The sky was covered by one impenetrable
leaden cloud, water stood in pools in the streets which were soft with
dust a few hours before; the flowers all hung their heads like
vagabonds who had been awake all night and were ashamed to face the
daylight. Even the chickens stood about in dejected attitudes, and
stray roosters from other poultry-yards found refuge in Tom's coop
without first being subjected to a trial of strength and skill by Tom's
game-cock.

But no man in my condition of mind could be easily depressed by bad
weather. I would rather have been able to drive about under a clear
sky, or lounge under the trees, or walk to the post-office in the
afternoon by the road which passed directly in front of Mrs. Clarkson's
boarding-house; but man should not live for himself alone. In the room
next mine were slumbering two wee people to whom I owed a great deal,
who would mourn bitterly when they saw the condition of the skies and
ground--I would devote myself to the task of making THEM so happy that
they would forget the absence of sunshine out of doors--I would sit by
their bedside and have a story ready for them the moment they awoke,
and put them in such a good humor that they could laugh, with me, at
cloud and rain.

I began at once to construct a story for their especial benefit; the
scene was to be a country residence on a rainy day, and the actors two
little boys who should become uproariously jolly in spite of the
weather. Like most people not used to story-making, my progress was not
very rapid; in fact, I had got no farther than the plot indicated above
when an angry snarl came from the children's room.

"What's the matter, Budge?" I shouted, dressing myself as rapidly as
possible.

"Ow--oo--ya--ng--um--boc--gaa," was the somewhat complicated response.

"What did you say, Budge?"

"Didn't say noffin'."

"Oh--that's what I thought."

"DIDN'T thought."

"Budge,--Budge,--be good."

"Don't WANT to be good--YA--A--A."