Once a Week. A. A. Milne
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he's better now, thank you." She looked up at Archie and me. "I don't believe you two love him a bit."
Archie smiled at his wife and went over to the tea-table to pour out. I sat on the grass and tried to analyse my feelings to my nephew by marriage.
"As an acquaintance," I said, "he is charming; I know no one who is better company. If I cannot speak of his more solid qualities, it is only because I do not know him well enough. But to say whether I love him or not is difficult; I could tell you better after our first quarrel. However, there is one thing I must confess. I am rather jealous of him."
"You envy his life of idleness?"
"No, I envy him the amount of attention he gets from Myra. The love she wastes on him which might be better employed on me is a heartrending thing to witness. As her betrothed I should expect to occupy the premier place in her affections, but, really, I sometimes think that if the baby and I both fell into the sea she would jump in and save the baby first."
"Don't talk about his falling into the sea," said Dahlia, with a shudder; "I can't a-bear it."
"I think it will be all right," said Archie, "I was touching wood all the time."
"What a silly godfather he nearly had!" whispered Myra at the cradle. "It quite makes you smile, doesn't it, baby? Oh, Dahlia, he's just like Archie when he smiles!"
"Oh, yes, he's the living image of Archie," said Dahlia confidently.
I looked closely at Archie and then at the baby.
"I should always know them apart," I said at last. "That," and I pointed to the one at the tea-table, "is Archie, and this," and I pointed to the one in the cradle, "is the baby. But then I've such a wonderful memory for faces."
"Baby," said Myra, "I'm afraid you're going to know some very foolish people."
II.—HE MEETS HIS GODFATHERS
Thomas and Simpson arrived by the twelve-thirty train, and Myra and I drove down in the wagonette to meet them. Myra handled the ribbons ("handled the ribbons"—we must have that again) while I sat on the box-seat and pointed out any traction-engines and things in the road. I am very good at this.
"I suppose," I said, "there will be some sort of ceremony at the station? The station-master will read an address while his little daughter presents a bouquet of flowers. You don't often get two godfathers travelling by the same train. Look out," I said, as we swung round a corner, "there's an ant coming."
"What did you say? I'm so sorry, but I listen awfully badly when I'm driving."
"As soon as I hit upon anything really good I'll write it down. So far I have been throwing off the merest trifles. When we are married, Myra——"
"Go on; I love that."
"When we are married we shan't be able to afford horses, so we'll keep a couple of bicycles, and you'll be able to hear everything I say. How jolly for you."
"All right," said Myra quietly.
There was no formal ceremony on the platform, but I did not seem to feel the want of it when I saw Simpson stepping from the train with an enormous Teddy-bear under his arm.
"Hallo, dear old chap," he said, "here we are! You're looking at my bear. I quite forgot it until I'd strapped up my bags, so I had to bring it like this. It squeaks," he added, as if that explained it. "Listen," and the piercing roar of the bear resounded through the station.
"Very fine. Hallo, Thomas!"
"Hallo!" said Thomas, and went to look after his luggage.
"I hope he'll like it," Simpson went on. "Its legs move up and down." He put them into several positions, and then squeaked it again. "Jolly, isn't it?"
"Ripping," I agreed. "Who's it for?"
He looked at me in astonishment for a moment.
"My dear old chap, for the baby."
"Oh, I see. That's awfully nice of you. He'll love it." I wondered if Simpson had ever seen a month-old baby. "What's its name?"
"I've been calling it Duncan in the train, but, of course, he will want to choose his own name for it."
"Well, you must talk it over with him to-night after the ladies have gone to bed. How about your luggage? We mustn't keep Myra waiting."
"Hallo, Thomas!" said Myra, as we came out. "Hallo, Samuel! Hooray!"
"Hallo, Myra!" said Thomas. "All right?"
"Myra, this is Duncan," said Simpson, and the shrill roar of the bear rang out once more.
Myra, her mouth firm, but smiles in her eyes, looked down lovingly at him. Sometimes I think that she would like to be Simpson's mother. Perhaps, when we are married, we might adopt him.
"For baby?" she said, stroking it with her whip. "But he won't be allowed to take it into church with him, you know. No, Thomas, I won't have the luggage next to me; I want some one to talk to. You come."
Inside the wagonette Simpson squeaked his bear at intervals, while I tried to prepare him for his coming introduction to his godson. Having known the baby for nearly a week, and being to some extent in Myra's confidence, I felt quite the family man beside Simpson.
"You must try not to be disappointed with his looks," I said. "Anyway, don't let Dahlia think you are. And if you want to do the right thing say that he's just like Archie. Archie doesn't mind this for some reason."
"Is he tall for his age?"
"Samuel, pull yourself together. He isn't tall at all. If he is anything he is long, but how long only those can say who have seen him in his bath. You do realize that he is only a month old?"
"My dear old boy, of course. One can't expect much from him. I suppose he isn't even toddling about yet?"
"No—no. Not actually toddling."
"Well, we can teach him later on. And I'm going to have a lot of fun with him. I shall show him my watch—babies always love that."
There was a sudden laugh from the front, which changed just a little too late into a cough. The fact is I had bet Myra a new golf-ball that Simpson would show the baby his watch within two minutes of meeting him. Of course, it wasn't a certainty yet, but I thought there would be no harm in mentioning the make of ball I preferred. So I changed the conversation subtly to golf.
Amidst loud roars from the bear we drove up to the house and were greeted by Archie.
"Hallo, Thomas! how are you? Hallo, Simpson! Good heavens! I know that face. Introduce me, Samuel."
"This is Duncan. I brought him down for your boy to play with."
"Duncan, of course. The boy will love it. He's tired of me already. He proposes to meet his godfathers at four p.m. precisely. So you'll have nearly three hours to think of something genial to say to him."
We spent the last of the three hours playing tennis, and at four p.m. precisely the introduction took place. By great good luck Duncan was absent; Simpson would have wasted his whole two minutes in making it squeak.
"Baby," said Dahlia, "this is your Uncle Thomas."
"Hallo!" said Thomas, gently kissing the baby's hand. "Good old boy," and he felt for his pipe.
"Baby," said Dahlia, "this is your Uncle Samuel."
As he leant over the child I whipped out my watch and murmured, "Go!" 4 hrs. 1 min. 25 sec. I wished Myra had not taken my "two minutes" so literally, but I felt that the golf-ball was safe.
Simpson looked at the baby as if fascinated, and the baby stared back at him. It was a new experience for both of them.