"Dear uncle's left one," said Margery thoughtfully. "What's it doing?"
"Thinking."
"What's finking?"
"What dear uncle does every afternoon after lunch."
"What's lunch?"
"Eggs, sardines, macaroons—everything."
With a great effort Margery resisted the temptation to ask what "everything" was (a difficult question), or what everything was doing (a still more difficult one), and made a statement of her own.
"Santa Claus bring Margie a balloon from daddy," she announced.
"A balloon! How jolly!" I said with interest. "What sort are you having? One of those semi-detached ones with the gas laid on, or the pink ones with a velvet collar?"
"Down chimney," said Margery.