He's a sociable little chap, and his usual course is to pounce on a shelf, knock off some object that tickles his fancy, then lug it in his mouth to--well, anywhere that he happens to feel like going.

Cyril has found him up-stairs with a small miniature, battered and chewed almost beyond recognition.

And Aunt Hannah nearly had a fit one day when he appeared in her room with an enormous hard-shelled black bug--dead, of course--that he had fished from a case that Pete had left open.

As for me, I can swear that the little round white stone he was playing with in my part of the house was one of William's Collection Number One.
"And that isn't all," Bertram continued.

"Billy brings her music down to show to me, and lugs my heads all over the rest of the house to show to other folks.