"Dad got lots—all THIS many," said Judy, opening her arms very wide to denote the number in her father's possession. "Boydie, go get them!"
"Chuck-chuck," crowed the General delightedly, and struggling to his feet—"find chuck-chuck."
"In there," whispered Judy, giving him a gentle push into the half-open dining-room door; "ask Dad."
Right across the room the baby tottered on fat, unsteady little legs.
"Are the children ALL possessed to-night, Esther?" said the Captain, as his youngest son clutched wildly at his leg and tried to climb up it.
He looked down into the little dirty, dimpling face. "Well, General, and to what do we owe the honour of your presence?"
"Chuck-chuck, chuck-a-chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck," said the General, going down promptly upon all fours to seek for the feathered darlings Judy had said were here.
But Esther gathered up the dear, dirty-faced young rascal and bore him struggling out of the room. At the foot of the stairs she nearly stumbled over the rest of the family.
"Oh, you scamps, you bad, wicked imps!" she said, reaching out to box all their ears, and of course failing.
She sat down on the bottom stair to laugh for a second, then she handed the General to Pip. "To-morrow," she said, standing up and hastily smoothing the rich hair that the General's hands had clutched gleefully—"to-morrow I shall beat every one of you with the broomstick."