WATER BABIES
97
she loved anything else in the world except the little boy whose getting into the ditch had grown to be her terror.
It was a hot morning in June. Mam- ma had gone to market, after leaving the children, freshly dressed, to play with their spades and pails in the sand box. Nannie Ob had gone to spend the day with another daughter a few blocks away. The new maid promised faith- fully to watch the little ones — and meant to, Fm sure. Probably she no- ticed two or three times at first that they were occupied, then, giving her mind to her work, endeavored to im- press the Colonel's wife on her return that she had more than an ordinar}' maid. She flew from task to task and the babies in the sand pile were for- gotten.
"Me not rike san'. Me not rike oo. Me wun 'way."
"No, no, Te-boy, not wun 'way. Mamma not rike oo wun 'way. Te'- boy, Te'-boy, Mamma tus me," wailed the little mother, as Ted's determined feet flew over the lawn and out onto the pavement. Dropping spade and pail, she ran after, still calling, "Te'- boy, Te'-boy, oo tum back! Mamma 'pank oo — 'pank me," but to no pur- pose. Ted raced over the crossing and out into the middle of the avenue, head- ing away from the town, Helen hard af- ter. The more she screamed for him to come back, the faster he ran, his boy hat on the back of his neck and a cloud of alkali dust choking the little girl in pursuit.
Ted's legs were straight and strong, but he couldn't keep up a running pace forever, even actuated by the novel in- tention of running away; and Helen, whose motive was even stronger — the necessity of protecting little brother and keeping faith with Mamma, who trusted her — soon gained on him.
"Te'-boy, nice boy, not wun 'way," she coaxed, beaming on him through her tears. "Mamma ky, papa-daddy ky, me ky, titty ky; Te'-boy, 'es pay do fin' Mamma," she begged, trying to take the little fellow's hand.
But Ted's mind was made up. "Me
wun 'way, w-a-yoff. Me not do home," and off he started at a trot again, Helen keeping up this time, but crying bitter- ly, "Mamma not tus me no mo'."
On and on through the still heat and the fine white dust, over the lonely road went the two, Ted setting the pace, alternately trotting and walking, his intention to run away not one whit lessened by his sister's tears and en- treaties.
More than a mile was now between them and home. The hot sun rose higher and blistered their faces. Their walking in the middle of the road had
Helen doesn't like to pose, but Teddy-boy seems to
enjoy the situation.
kept them in a swirl of dust from the first.
At last Ted weakened. "Me firsty; me want jink, He'n."
"Te'-boy, me not dot djink ; me firsty, too; Mamma dot djink. 'Es do home, itty buvver," pleaded the patient child.
"No, no; me want djink."
Who can tell why the boy wavered from the straight road ahead and cross- ed to the weed-grown wayside, which meant the edge of the ditch? Perhaps because he was more used to the green than to this hot dust.
For whatever reason it v\^, when^he
