Ben was seized with one of the very worst laughing spasms Toby had ever seen, and there was every danger that he would roll off the seat before he could control himself; but he did recover after a time, and as the purple hue slowly receded from his face, he said:
"I'll tell you what we'll do, Toby. You come to the tent when the afternoon performance is over, an' I'll fix it so's you shall see Mr. Stubbs's brother as much as you want to."
Just then Toby remembered that Ben was to be his guest for a while that day, and after explaining all Aunt Olive had done in the way of preparing dainties, invited him to dinner.
"I'll come, Toby, because it's to see you an' them that has been good to you," said Ben, slowly, and after quite a long pause: "but there ain't anybody else I know of who could coax me out to dinner, for, you see, rough fellows like me ain't fit to go around much, except among our own kind. But say, Toby, your uncle Dan'l ain't right on his speech, is he?"
Toby looked so puzzled that Ben saw he had not been understood, and he explained:
"I mean, he don't get up a dinner for the sake of havin' a chance to make a speech, like the skeleton, does he, eh?"
"Oh no, Uncle Dan'l don't do that. I know you'll like him when you see him."
"And I believe I shall, Toby," said Ben, speaking very seriously. "I'd be sure to, because he's such a good uncle to you."
Just then the conversation was interrupted by the orders to prepare for the parade; and as the manager drove up to see that everything was done properly, he stopped to speak with and congratulate Toby on being at home again, a condescension on his part that caused a lively feeling of envy in the breasts of the other boys because they had not been so honored.
What do the pansies think, mamma, When they first come in the spring? Do they remember the robins, And the songs they used to sing? When the butterflies come again, I wonder if they will say, "We are ever so glad to see you, And won't you sit down and stay?"
Will the pansies tell the butterflies How the snow lay white and deep, And how beneath it, safe and warm, They had such a pleasant sleep? Will the butterflies tell the pansies How they hid in their cradle bed, And dreamed away the winter-time, When people thought they were dead?