“Feel again,” said I, throwing the toad out of the window, where it was followed by an agonized shriek from Toddie. Again he felt, and his search was rewarded by the tension-screw of Helen’s sewing-machine. Then I attempted some research myself, and speedily found my fingers adhering to something of a sticky consistency. I quickly withdrew my hand, exclaiming:— “What nasty stuff _have_ you got in your pocket, Toddie?” ”’Tain’t nashty ’tuff—it’s byead an’ lasses, an’ it’s nice, an’ Budge an’ me hazh little tea parties in de kicken-coop, an’ we eats it, an’ its _dovely_.” All this was lucid and disgusting, but utterly unproductive of button-hooks, and meanwhile the breakfast was growing cold. I succeeded in buttoning Toddie’s shoes with my fingers, splitting most of my nails in the operation. I had been too busily engaged with Toddie to pay any attention to Budge, who I now found about half dressed and trying to catch flies on the window pane. Snatching Toddie, I started for the dining-room, when Budge remarked reprovingly: “Uncle Harry, _you_ wasn’t dressed when the bell rang, and _you_ oughtn’t to have any breakfast.” True enough—I was minus collar, cravat, and coat. Hurrying these on, and starting again, I was once more arrested:— “Uncle Harry, must I brush my teeth this morning?” “No—hurry up—come down without doing anything more, if you like, but _come_—it’ll be dinner-time before we get breakfast.” Then that imp was moved, for the first time that morning to something like good-nature, and he exclaimed with a giggle:— “My! What big stomachs we’d have when we got done, wouldn’t we?”