I had a severe if not undignified struggle with the string before I could get my hat off.
Then I advanced, and, holding out my hand to Mr.Buckle, said, "Mr.Buckle, I believe ?" [Illustration: "Mr.Buckle, I believe ?"] "The same to you, sir, and a many of them," said Mr.Buckle, hastily; being, I fancy, rather put out by the touch of my frail hand, which was certainly very unlike the leather he handled daily.

He saw his mistake, and added quickly, "Your servant, sir.

I hope your health's better, sir ?" "Very well, thank you," said I (all children make that answer, I think).
"What a little gentleman!" said Mrs.Buckle, in an audible "aside" to my nurse.

She was as good-natured a woman as Mrs.Bundle herself, but with less brains.

She lived in a chronic state of surprises and superlatives.
"You are Nurse's sister, aren't you, please ?" I asked, going up to her, and once more tendering my hand.