"My good lord, what's a fellow
going to do with yuh?" he groaned in desperation. "Burn yourself
up, you would! I can see now why folks keep their kids corralled
in high chairs and gocarts all the time. They got to, or they
wouldn't have no kids."
Bud certainly was learning a few things that he had come near
to skipping altogether in his curriculum of life. Speaking of
high chairs, whereof he had thought little enough in his active
life, set him seriously to considering ways and means. Weinstock-
Lubin had high chairs listed in their catalogue. Very nice high
chairs, for one of which Bud would have paid its weight in gold
dust (if one may believe his word) if it could have been set down
in that cabin at that particular moment. He studied the small
cuts of the chairs, holding Lovin Child off the page by main
strength the while. Wishing one out of the catalogue and into the
room being impracticable, he went after the essential features,
thinking to make one that would answer the purpose.
Accustomed as he was to exercising his inventive faculty in
overcoming certain obstacles raised by the wilderness in the path
of comfort, Bud went to work with what tools he had, and with the
material closest to his hand.
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