"What nasty stuff have you got in your pocket, Toddie?"
"'Tain't nashty 'tuff—it's byead an' lasses, an' it's nice, an' Budge an' me hazh little tea parties in de kicken-coop, an' we eats it, an' its dovely."
All this was lucid and disgusting, but utterly unproductive of button-hooks, and meanwhile the breakfast was growing cold. I succeeded in buttoning Toddie's shoes with my fingers, splitting most of my nails in the operation. I had been too busily engaged with Toddie to pay any attention to Budge, who I now found about half dressed and trying to catch flies on the window pane.
Snatching Toddie, I started for the dining-room, when Budge remarked reprovingly:
"Uncle Harry, you wasn't dressed when the bell rang, and you oughtn't to have any breakfast."
True enough—I was minus collar, cravat, and coat. Hurrying these on, and starting again, I was once more arrested:—
"Uncle Harry, must I brush my teeth this morning?"
"No—hurry up—come down without doing anything more, if you like, but come—it'll be dinner-time before we get breakfast."
Then that imp was moved, for the first time that morning to something like good-nature, and he exclaimed with a giggle:—
"My! What big stomachs we'd have when we got done, wouldn't we?"