MRS. G. Mafflin didn't at all like his watch being broken, though he was too polite to say so. It was entirely his fault for giving it to the child. Dem little puds are werry, werry feeble, aren't dey, by Jack-in-de-box? (To G.) What did he want to see you for? CAPT. G. Regimental shop as usual. MRS. G. The Regiment! Always the Regiment. On my word, I sometimes feel jealous of Mafflin. CAPT. G. (Wearily.) Poor old Jack? I don't think you need. Isn't it time for The Butcha to have his nap? Bring a chair out here, dear. I've got some thing to talk over with you. AND THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of the Gadsby, by Rudyard Kipling