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`But it wasn't me, oo know!' Bruno interrupted. `And oo needn't try to look as if it was, Mister Sir!' I represented, respectfully, that I was trying to look as if it wasn't. `--he was a middling good Boy--' `He were a welly good Boy!' Bruno corrected her. `And he never did nothing he wasn't told to do--' `That doesn't make a good Boy!' Sylvie said contemptuously. `That do make a good Boy!' Bruno insisted. Sylvie gave up the point. `Well, he was a very good Boy, and he always kept his promises, and he had a big cupboard--' `--for to keep all his promises in!' cried Bruno. `If he kept all his promises,' Sylvie said, with a mischievous look in her eyes, `he wasn't like some Boys I know of!' `He had to put salt with them, a-course,' Bruno said gravely: `oo ca'n't keep promises when there isn't any salt. And he kept his birthday on the second shelf.' `How long did he keep his birthday?' I asked. `I never can keep mine more than twenty-four hours.' `Why, a birthday stays that long by itself!' cried Bruno. `Oo doosn't know how to keep birthdays! This Boy kept his a whole year!' `And then the next birthday would begin,' said Sylvie. `So it would be his birthday always.' `So it were,' said Bruno. `Doos oo have treats on oor birthday, Mister Sir?' `Sometimes,' I said. `When oo're good, I suppose?' `Why, it is a sort of treat, being good, isn't it?' I said. `A sort of treat!' Bruno repeated. `It's a sort of punishment, I think!' `Oh, Bruno!' Sylvie interrupted, almost sadly. `How can you?' `Well, but it is,' Bruno persisted. `Why, look here, Mister Sir! This is being good!' And he sat bolt upright, and put on an absurdly solemn face. `First oo must sit up as straight as pokers--' `--as a poker,' Sylvie corrected him. `--as straight as pokers,' Bruno firmly repeated. `Then oo must clasp oor hands--so. Then--"Why hasn't oo brushed oor hair? Go and brush it toreckly!" Then--"Oh, Bruno, oo mustn't dog's-ear the daisies!" Did oo learn oor spelling wiz daisies, Mister Sir?' `I want to hear about that Boy's Birthday,' I said. Bruno returned to the story instantly. `Well, so this Boy said "Now it's my Birthday!" And so--I'm tired!' he suddenly broke off, laying his head in Sylvie's lap. `Sylvie knows it best. Sylvie's grown-upper than me. Go on Sylvie!' |
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