seen him in to-day."

"Well, are we all ready?"

"You're quite sure about his name?" said Archie to his wife. "This is
your last chance, you know. Say the word to Thomas before it's too
late."

"I think Peter is rather silly," I said.

"Why Blair?" said Myra. "I ask you."

Dahlia smiled sweetly at us and led the way with P. B. Mannering to the
car. We followed ... and Simpson on the seat next the driver read the
service to himself for the last time.

. . . . .

"I feel very proud," said Archie as we came out of the church. "I'm not
only a father, but my son has a name. And now I needn't call him 'er'
any more."

"He _was_ a good boy, wasn't he?" said Myra.

"Thomas, say at once that your godson was a good boy."

But Thomas was quiet. He looked years older.

"I've never read the service before," he said. "I didn't quite know what
we were in for. It seems that Simpson and I have undertaken a heavy
responsibility; we are practically answerable for the child's education.
We are supposed to examine him every few years and find out if he is
being taught properly."

"You can bowl to him later on if you like."

"No, no. It means more than that." He turned to Dahlia. "I think," he
said, "Simpson and I will walk home. We must begin at once to discuss
the lines on which we shall educate our child."

V.--HE SEES LIFE

There was no one in sight. If 'twere done well, 'twere well done
quickly. I gripped the perambulator, took a last look round, and then
suddenly rushed it across the drive and down a side path, not stopping
until we were well concealed from the house. Panting, I dropped into a
seat, having knocked several seconds off the quarter-mile record for
babies under one.

"Hallo!" said Myra.

"Dash it, are there people everywhere to-day? I can't get a moment to
myself. 'O solitude, where----'"

"What are you going to do with baby?"

"Peter and I are going for a walk." My eyes rested on her for more than
a moment. She was looking at me over an armful of flowers ...
and--well--"You can come too if you like," I said.

"I've got an awful lot to do," she smiled doubtfully.

"Oh, if you'd rather count the washing."

She sat down next to me.

"Where's Dahlia?"

"I don't know. We meant to have left a note for her, but we came away in
rather a hurry. '_Back at twelve. Peter._'"

"'_I am quite happy. Pursuit is useless_,'" suggested Myra. "Poor
Dahlia, she'll be frighte