o, I was
floatin' around free and careless. And then, first thing I know, without
any special coachin' in the act, I finds myself pushed out into the
center of the stage with the spot-light on me, and I'm introduced as a
daddy.

The only thing I could do was try to make a noise like one. I didn't
feel it, any more'n I felt like a stained-glass saint in a church
window. And I didn't know the lines very well. But there was everybody
watching,--Vee, and the nurse, and Madame Battou, and occasional
callers,--so I proceeds to bluff it through the best I could.

My merry little idea was to be familiar with the youngster, treat him as
if he'd been a member of the fam'ly for a long time, and hide any
embarrassin' feelin's I might have by addressin' him loud and joshin'. I
expect it was kind of a poor performance, at that. But I seemed to be
gettin' away with it, so I stuck to that line. Vee appears to take it
all right, and, as nobody else gave me the call, I almost got to believe
it was the real thing myself.

So this particular afternoon, when I came breezin' in from town, I
chases right up to the nursery, where I knew I'd find Vee, gives her
the usual hail just behind the ear, and then turns hasty to the crib to
show I haven't forgot who's there.

"Hello, old sport!" says I, ticklin' him in the ribs. "How you hittin'
'em, hey? Well, well! Look at the fistses doubled up! Who you goin' to
hand a wallop to now? Oh, tryin' to punch yourself in the eye, are you?
Come there, you young rough-houser, lay off that grouchy stuff and speak
some kind words to your daddy. You won't, eh? Goin' to kick a little
with the footsies. That's it. Mix in with all fours, you young----"

And just then I hears a suppressed snort that sounds sort of familiar. I
glances around panicky, and gets the full benefit of a disgusted glare
from a set of chilled steel eyes, and discovers that there's someone
besides Vee and the nurse present. Yep. It's Auntie.

"May I ask," says she, "if this is your usual manner of greeting your
offspring?"

"Why," says I, "I--I expect it is."

"Humph!" says she. "I might have known."

"Now, Auntie," protests Vee, "you know very well that Torchy means----"

"Whatever he means or doesn't mean," breaks in Auntie, "I am sure he
has an astonishing way of showing parental affection. Calling the child
an 'old scout,' a 'young rough-houser'! It's shocking."

"Sorry," says I; "but I ain't taken any lessons in polite baby