"Ocken Hawwy," remarked Toddie, "daysh an awfoo funny chunt up 'tairs awfoo BIG chunt. I show it you after brepspup." "Oh! What does he mean by chunt, Budge?" "I GUESS he means trunk," replied my oldest nephew. Recollections of my childish delight in rummaging an old trunk it seems a century ago that I did it caused me to smile sympathetically at Toddie, to his apparent great delight.

Fwhy shud I kape a dog an' du me own barkin'? An' thin he'll think betther av ut an' chunt 'Poppycock, all poppycock! . . . As you were, Sarjint' an' thin he'll call in Kilbride. Eh! fwhat yez laughin' at, yeh fules?" he queried irritably.

"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.

"An awfoo funny chunt" seemed to annihilate suddenly all differences of age, condition and experience between the wee boy and myself, and A direful thought struck me. I dashed up-stairs and into my room. Yes, he DID mean my trunk. I could see nothing funny about it quite the contrary. The bond of sympathy between my nephew and myself was suddenly broken.

In the contemplation of all the shy possibilities my short chat with Miss Mayton had suggested, I had quite forgotten my dusty clothing and the two little living causes thereof. II. The Fate of a Bouquet Next morning at breakfast Toddie remarked, "Ocken Hawwy, darsh an awfoo funny chunt upstairs. I show it to you after brepspup."