“Gwacious!” said Toddie, as he placed his plate on the sideboard, “maybe the gwapes an’ buttonanoes has got sour.  I guesh we’d better try ’em, like mamma does the milk on hot morningsh when the baddy milkman don’t come time enough,” and Toddie suited the action to the word by plucking from a cluster the handsomest grape in sight.  “I fink,” said he, smacking his lips with the suspicious air of a professional wine-taster; “I fink they is gettin’ sour.”  “Let’s see,” said Budge.

“No,” said Toddie, plucking another grape with one hand while with the other he endeavored to cover his gift.  “Ize bid enough to do it all myself.  Unless,” he added, as a happy inspiration struck him, “you’ll let me help see if your buttonanoes are sour.”

“Then you can only have one bite,” said Budge, “You must let me taste about six grapes, ’cause ’twould take that many to make one of your bites on a banana.”

“Aw wight,” said Toddie; and the boys proceeded to exchange duties, Budge taking the precaution to hold the banana himself, so that his brother should not abstractedly sample a second time, and Toddie doling out the grapes with careful count.

“They are a little sour,” said Budge, with a wry face.  “Perhaps some other bunch is better.  I think we’d better try each one, don’t you?”

“An’ each one of the buttonanoes, too,” suggested Toddie. “That one wazh pretty good, but maybe some of the others isn’t.”

The proposition was accepted, and soon each banana had its length reduced by a fourth, and the grape-clusters displayed a fine development of wood.  Then Budge seemed to realize that his present was not as sightly as it might be, for he carefully closed the skins at the ends, and turned the unbroken ends to the front as deftly as if he were a born retailer of fruit.

This done, he exclaimed:  “Oh! we want our cards on em, else how will she know who they came from?”

“We’ll be here to tell her,” said Toddie.

“Huh!” said Budge; “That wouldn’t make her half so happy.  Don’t you know how when cousin Florence gets presents of flowers, she’s always happiest when she’s lookin’ at the card that comes with ’em?”

“Aw right,” said Toddie, hurrying into the parlor,’and returning with the cards of a lady and gentleman, taken haphazard from his aunt’s card-receiver.

“Now, we must write ‘Happy Birthday’ on the backs of ’em,” said Budge, exploring his pockets, and extracting a stump of a lead-pencil.  “Now,” continued Budge, leaning over the card, and displaying all the facial contortions of the unpracticed writer, as he laboriously printed, in large letters, speaking, as he worked, a letter at a time: 

“H—­A—­P—­P—­E B—­U—­R—­F—­D—­A—­Happy Birthday.  Now, you must hold the pencil for yours, or else it won’t be so sweet—­that’s what mamma says.”

Toddie took the pencil in his pudgy hand, and Budge guided the hand; and two juvenile heads touched each other, and swayed, and twisted, and bobbed in unison until the work was completed.