"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. Looking at the matter from the
comparative distance which a few weeks have placed between that
day and this, I can see that I was unable to consider the scene
before me with a calm and unprejudiced mind. I am now satisfied
that the sudden birth and hasty decease of my sympathy with Toddie
were striking instances of human inconsistency. My soul had gone
out to his because he loved to rummage in trunks, and because I
imagined he loved to see the monument of incongruous material
which resulted from such an operation; the scene before me showed
clearly that I had rightly divined my nephew's nature. And yet my
selfish instincts hastened to obscure my soul's vision, and to
prevent that joy which should ensue when "Faith is lost in full
fruition."
My trunk had contained nearly everything, for while a campaigner I
had learned to reduce packing to an exact science. Now, had there
been an atom of pride in my composition I might have glorified
myself, for it certainly seemed as if the heap upon the floor
could never have come out of a single trunk.
Pages:
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48