"Toddie's a silly little boy," said Budge, "he always says brepspup for
brekbux."

"Oh, what does he mean by chunt, Budge?"

"I guess he means trunk," replied my elder nephew.

Recollections of my childish delight in rummaging an old trunk caused me
to smile sympathetically at Toddie, to his great delight.

A direful thought struck me. I dashed upstairs. Yes, he did mean my
trunk. While a campaigner, I had learned to reduce packing to an exact
science. Now, if I had an atom of pride in me, I might have glorified
myself, for it certainly seemed as if the heap upon the floor could
never have come out of one single trunk.

In the lid of my dressing-case lay my dress-coat, tightly rolled up.
Snatching it up, with a violent exclamation, there dropped from it--one
of these infernal dolls. A howl resounded from the doorway.

"You tookted my dolly out of her k'adle--want to wock my dolly oo-ee-
ee!"

I called the girl, and asked where the key was that locked the door
between my room and the children's.

"Please sir, Toddie threw it down the well."

I removed the lock and told the coachman to get ready at once to drive