"It was put somewhere up-stairs in the lumber-room, and your aunt has
forgotten all about it. You might try with that."
"And I'd stuff it again when I had found out all about it, uncle," I
said.
"To be sure, my boy," said uncle, thoughtfully; "I wonder whether your
aunt would want Buzzy and Nap stuffed if they were to die?"
"She'd be sure to; aunt is so fond of them," I said. "Why, uncle, I
might be able to do it myself."
"Think so?" he said thoughtfully. "Why, it would make her pleased, my
boy."
But neither Buzzy nor Nap showed the slightest intention of dying so as
to be stuffed, and I had to learn the art before I could attempt
anything of the kind.