Sidney had a very long Sunday talk with him before he went.
"I won't forget I'm a building," said Chuckles, looking into her face with great earnestness. "And I've got to build and God has to build, and we're going to do it wiv each other."
"No, Chuckles; God must put His Hand over yours and teach you how to lay every brick."
"Should I put them on crooked?"
"Very crooked; so crooked that they would never hold together, and only come to the ground with a crash!"
"But that's only when a storm comes, and I'm not on the rocks. I mean to be quite, quite steady, I 'sure you, for I aren't on the sand. What do you think my school bwicks will be?"
"The same as at home. Truth is one, obedience another. Industry—"
Chuckles jumped up and put his small hand over her lips.
"Don't say them all. They're so dis-disinter-westing."
Yet his last words to her were: