Uncle J. Well, TOMMY, because the carving was done at a side table—and uncommon badly done, too. Why do you want to know?
Tommy. Parpar thought you would carve, I know. He told Mummy she must ask you, because—
Mrs. C. (With a prophetic instinct.) Now, TOMMY, you mustn't tease your Uncle. Come away, and tell your new Aunt ZEFFIE what you're going to do with your Christmas boxes.
Tommy. But mayn't I tell him what Parpar said, first?
Mrs. C. No, no; by and by—not now! [She averts the danger.
[Later; the Company are playing "Hide the Thimble;" i.e., someone has planted that article in a place so conspicuous that few would expect to find it there. As each person catches sight of it, he or she sits down. Uncle JOSEPH is still, to the general merriment, wandering about and getting angrier every moment.
Mr. C. That's it, Uncle, you're warm—you're getting warm!
Uncle J. (Boiling over.) Warm, Sir? I am warm—and something more. I can tell you! [Sits down with a bump.
Mr. C. You haven't seen it! I'm sure you haven't seen it. Come now, Uncle!
Uncle J. Never mind whether I have or have not. Perhaps I don't want to see it, Sir!