Go wash the little baby, the baby, the baby, Go wash the little baby, and give it toast and tea, Go wash the little baby, the baby, the baby, Go wash the little baby and bring it back to me.
"Sing it again, Uncle Booge! Sing it again!" came Buddy's sharply commanding voice, and Peter wrapped his arms around the tree trunk, and laid his forehead against it. He was happy, but trembling so violently that the branches of the small elm shook above his head. He twined his legs around the tree, to still their trembling, and hugged the tree close, for he felt as if he would be shaken to pieces. Even his forehead rattled against the bark of the trunk, but he was happy. Buddy was not gone!
He clung there while his breath slowly returned, and until his trembling dwindled into mere shivers, listening to Booge boom and trill his songs, and to Buddy clamor for more. And as he stepped toward the boat Booge's voice took up a new verse; one Peter had never heard:--
We took the old kazoozer, kazoozer, kazoozer, We grabbed the old kazoozer and tore his preacher clothes; We kicked the old ka-boozer, ka-doozer, ka-hoozer, We scratched the old ka-roozer and smote him on the n-o-s-e!
Peter opened the door. Buddy flew from his seat on the bunk and threw himself into Peter's arms.
"Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter!" he cried. "Did you bring me my mama?"
"No, Buddy-boy," said Peter gently. "She's off on the long trip yet. We mustn't fret about that. Ain't you glad Uncle Peter come back?"
"Yes--and--and Uncle Booge made me a wagon," said Buddy, "and it got broke."
"A feller sort of fell on it," explained Booge carelessly, "and busted it. He come visiting when we wasn't ready for comp'ny."
Peter listened while Booge told the story of Mr. Briggles's arrival, reception and departure.
"And he failed on the wagon and broke it," said Buddy, "and Booge slided him. And Booge is going to mend my wagon."
"Maybe Uncle Peter'll mend it for you, Buddy," said Booge. "I guess Booge has got to take a trip, like your ma did, to-morrow."
"You couldn't talk sense if you tried, could you?" said Peter with vexation. "You are going to stay here every bit as long as I do. Ain't he, Buddy-boy?"
"I'm much obliged to you, Peter," said Booge after a minute, "but I'm afraid I can't stay. I got a telegram saying Caruso's got a cold and I've got to go to New York and sing grand opry."