Here the old man felt a pair of tenacious little claws fasten themselves upon his leg, and a shrill, tiny voice sing out:
“Untle Danpa! Untle Danpa Dennel!”
And, turning, he saw and lifted up little Lenny.
Little Lenny’s language needs translating. He called or tried to call every one around him by the names he heard them call each other. Thus, with him, Drusilla was called “Doosil;” Anna, “Nannan;” Dick, “Dit;” while General Lyon, who was variously called uncle, grandpa, or General, was “Untle Danpa” or even Untle “Danpa Deneral.”
“Well, my little man, what do you want?” inquired the General, smiling on the child.
“Hee, hee!” cried Lenny, pointing to the shore. “Mate Doosil tate Lenny home.”
“Make Drusil ‘take Lenny home?’ Why where is home?”
“Dere, dere! Mate Doosil tate Lenny home!”
“That’s not home!”
“Yet tid too! Mate Doosil tate Lenny home, dit minute!”