"I want to shee yours watch," remarked Toddie, snatching at my
chain, and rolling into my lap.

"Oh--oo--ee, so do I," shouted Budge, hastening to occupy one
knee, and IN TRANSITU wiping his shoes on my trousers and the
skirts of my coat. Each imp put an arm about me to steady himself,
as I produced my three-hundred-dollar time-keeper and showed them
the dial.

"I want to see the wheels go round," said Budge.

"Want to shee wheels go wound," echoed Toddie.

"No; I can't open my watch where there's so much dust," I said.

"What for?" inquired Budge.

"Want to shee the wheels go wound," repeated Toddie.

"The dust gets inside the watch and spoils it," I explained.

"Want to shee the wheels go wound," said Toddie, once more.

"I tell you I can't, Toddie," said I, with considerable asperity.
"Dust spoils watches."

The innocent gray eyes looked up wonderingly, the dirty, but
pretty lips parted slightly, and Toddie murmured:--

"Want to shee the wheels go wound."