Clearly, Toddie was
more of a general connoisseur than an amateur in packing. The
method of his work I quickly discerned, and the discovery threw
some light upon the size of the heap in front of my trunk. A
dress-hat and its case, when their natural relationship is
dissolved, occupy nearly twice as much space as before, even if
the former contains a blacking-box not usually kept in it, and the
latter contains a few cigars soaking in bay rum. The same might be
said of a portable dressing-case and its contents, bought for me
in Vienna by a brother ex-soldier, and designed by an old
continental campaigner to be perfection itself. The straps which
prevented the cover from falling entirely back had been cut,
broken or parted in some way, and in its hollow lay my dresscoat,
tightly rolled up. Snatching it up with a violent exclamation, and
unrolling it, there dropped from it--one of those infernal dolls.
At the same time a howl was sounded from the doorway.
"You tookted my dolly out of her cradle--I want to wock my
dolly--oo--oo--oo--ee--ee--ee--"
"You young scoundrel," I screamed--yes, howled, I was so enraged--
"I've a great mind to cut your throat this minute. What do you
mean by meddling with my trunk?"
"I--doe--know." Outward turned Toddie's lower lip; I believe the
sight of it would move a Bengal tiger to pity, but no such thought
occurred to me just then.
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