me and remarked:--

"That was one of the 'Imps.'"

"What was?" I asked.

"That little cuss that scared the hosses. There he is, now,
holdin' up that piece of brushwood. 'Twould be just like his
cheek, now, to ask me to let him ride. Here he comes, runnin'.
Wonder where t'other is?--they most generally travel together. We
call 'em the Imps, about these parts, because they're so uncommon
likely at mischief. Always skeerin' hosses, or chasin' cows, or
frightenin' chickens. Nice enough father an' mother, too--queer,
how young ones do turn out."

As he spoke, the offending youth came panting beside our carriage,
and in a very dirty sailor-suit, and under a broad-brimmed straw
hat, with one stocking about his ankle, and two shoes, averaging
about two buttons each, I recognized my nephew, Budge! About the
same time there emerged from the bushes by the roadside a smaller
boy in a green gingham dress, a ruffle which might once have been
white, dirty stockings, blue slippers worn through at the toes,
and an old-fashioned straw-turban. Thrusting into the dust of the
road a branch from a bush, and shouting, "Here's my grass-cutter!"
he ran toward us enveloped in a "pillar of cloud," which might
have served the purpose of Israel in Egypt. When he paused and the
dust had somewhat subsided, I beheld the unmistakable lineaments
of the child Toddie!

"They're--my nephews," I gasped.