A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK.
Grandpapa. "BLESS HIS HEART—JUST LIKE ME!—SPARE THE NIMROD—SPOIL THE CHILD, I SAY."
POOR COUSIN CHARLES!
Juvenile. "WHY DO THEY CALL THOSE THINGS COUSIN CHARLES SMOKES CIGARETTES? EH, POLLY?"
Polly. "WELL, DEAR; BECAUSE THEY ARE LITTLE CIGARS, I SUPPOSE!"
Juvenile. "OH THEN, WOULD COUSIN CHARLES BE CALLED A CAPTAINETTE, BECAUSE HE'S A LITTLE CAPTAIN?"
[JONES, who is a Volunteer, but is six feet high, twirls his moustachios with mild complacency.
