The mother came on her little son who was standing thoughtfully before the gooseberry bush in the garden. She noted that his expression was both puzzled and distressed.
“Why, what’s the matter, little lamb?” she asked tenderly.
“I’m finkin, muvver,” the boy answered.
“What about, little man?”
“Have gooseberries any legs, muvver?”
“Why, no! Of course not, dear.”
The perplexity passed from the little boy’s face, but the expression of trouble deepened, as he spoke again:
“Then, muvver, I fink I’ve swallowed a catapillar.”