"
The breakfast was an excellent one. I afterward learned that
Helen, dear old girl, had herself prepared a bill of fare for
every meal I should take in the house. As the table talk of myself
and nephews was not such as could do harm by being repeated, I
requested Maggie, the servant, to wait upon the children, and I
accompanied my request with a small treasury note. Relieved, thus,
of all responsibility for the dreadful appetites of my nephews, I
did full justice to the repast, and even regarded with some
interest and amusement the industry of Budge and Toddie with their
tiny forks and spoons. They ate rapidly for a while, but soon
their appetites weakened and their tongues were unloosed.
"Ocken Hawwy," remarked Toddie, "daysh an awfoo funny chunt up
'tairs--awfoo BIG chunt. I show it you after brepspup."
"Toddie's a silly little boy," said Budge; "he always says
brepspup for brekbux." [Footnote: Breakfast.]
"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. How
delightful it is to strike a sympathetic chord in child-nature,
thought I; how quickly the infant eye comprehends the look which
precedes the verbal expression of an idea! Dear Toddie! for years
we might sit at one table, careless of each other's words, but the
casual mention of one of thy delights has suddenly brought our
souls into that sweetest of all human communions--that one which
doubtless bound the Master himself to that apostle who was
otherwise apparently the weakest among the chosen twelve.
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