Then he began to jump up and down on the top of me, and explained that he was “riding in the puff-puff.”
I wished to goodness he was! Of course I had to wake up, and then we had those brutal “Three Bears” on again for an hour, till it was time to get up.
He insisted on being tubbed all over, with soap, and criticised me all the while.
“Boys who spill on the carpet must be whipped,” said he. “Mother will whip you, and you’ll cry—ha, ha!”
“I don’t care,” said I, “as long as she clears you off.”
He never seemed to understand what I said, and wasn’t a bit set down by this.
Then came the same old game of getting him into his togs, and parting his horrid hair, and blowing his nose, and all that.
I can tell you I was about sick of it when it was done.
When we got down in the hall, the first chap we met was the hotel man.
“There’s the ugly man with the red nose,” sings out the kid. “I can see him—there is he!” pointing with all his might.