Now, my father
was a shy man, and he particularly hated all ceremonies and public
spectacles. He became uneasily aware that a great ceremony, in which he
might be called upon to play a prominent part, was at hand. Abstracted
as he was, and conveniently deaf at times, he had heard such significant
whispers about "taking advantage of the bishop's being in the
neighborhood," and "twelve new jelly-glasses being absolutely wanted,"
as to assure him that some deadly festivity was in the wind. And when
the question of godmother and godfather was fairly put to hire,
coupled with the remark that this was a fine opportunity to return the
civilities of the neighborhood, he felt that a strong effort at
escape was the only thing left. Accordingly, having, seemingly without
listening, heard the clay fixed and seen, as they thought, without
observing, the chintz chairs in the best drawing-room uncovered (my
dear mother was the tidiest woman in the world), my father suddenly
discovered that there was to be a great book-sale, twenty miles off,
which would last four days, and attend it he must. My mother sighed;
but she never contradicted my father, even when he was wrong, as he
certainly was in this case. She only dropped a timid intimation that she
feared "it would look odd, and the world might misconstrue my father's
absence,--had not she better put off the christening?"

"My dear," answered my father, "it will be my duty, by and by, to
christen the boy,--a duty not done in a day. At present, I have no doubt
that the bishop will do very well without me. Let the day stand, or
if you put it off, upon my word and honor I believe that the wicked
auctioneer will put off the book-sale also. Of one thing I am quite
sure, that the sale and the christening will take place at the same
time." There was no getting over this; but I am certain my dear mother
had much less heart than before in uncovering the chintz chairs in the
best drawing-room. Five years later this would not have happened. My
mother would have kissed my father and said, "Stay," and he would have
stayed. But she was then very young and timid; and he, wild man, not of
the woods, but the cloisters, not yet civilized into the tractabilities
of home. In short, the post-chaise was ordered and the carpetbag packed.

"My love," said my mother, the night before this Hegira, looking up
from her work, "my love, there is one thing you have quite forgot to
settle,--I beg pardon for disturb