"Git your night-gown and your tooth-bresh quick, Molly, if you want to
pack 'em in my trunk!" he exclaimed with his eyes dancing and a curl
standing straight up on the top of his head, as it has a habit of doing
when he is most excited. "You can't take nothing but them 'cause I'm
going to put in a rope to tie the whale with when I ketch him, and it'll
take up all the rest of the room. Git 'em quick!"

"Yes, lover, I'll get them for you, but tell Molly where it is you are
going to sail off with her in that trunk of yours?" I asked, dropping
into the game as I have always done with him, no matter what game of my
own pressed when he called.

"On the ocean where the boats go 'cross and run right over a whale.
Don't you remember you showed me them pictures of spout whales in a
book, Molly? Father says they comes right up by the ship and you can
hear 'em shoot water and maybe a iceberg, too. Which do you want to
ketch' most, Molly, a iceberg or a whale?" His eager eyes demanded
instant decision on my part of the nature of capture I preferred. My
mind quickly reverted to those two ponderous and intense epistles I had
got within the hour, and I lay back in my chair and laughed until I felt
almost merry.

"The iceberg, Billy, every time," I said at last. I just can't manage
whales, especially if they are ardent, which word means intense. I like
_icebergs_, or I think I should if I could catch one."

"I don't believe you could, Molly, but maybe father will let you put a
rope and a long hook in his trunk to try with, if your clothes go into
mine. His is a heap the biggest anyway, and Nurse Tilly said he ought to