r, "Thomas, Thomas."

There was no reply.

"Samuel!"

Dead silence.

"I think," said Dahlia, "we'll call him Peter."

IV.--HE IS CHRISTENED

On the morning of the christening, as I was on my way to the bathroom, I
met Simpson coming out of it. There are people who have never seen
Simpson in his dressing-gown; people also who have never waited for the
sun to rise in glory above the snow-capped peaks of the Alps; who have
never stood on Waterloo Bridge and watched St. Paul's come through the
mist of an October morning. Well, well, one cannot see everything.

"Hallo, old chap!" he said. "I was just coming to talk to you. I want
your advice."

"A glass of hot water the last thing at night," I said, "no sugar or
milk, a Turkish bath once a week and plenty of exercise. You'll get it
down in no time."

"Don't be an ass. I mean about the christening. I've been to a wedding,
of course, but that isn't quite the same thing."

"A moment, while I turn on the tap." I turned it on and came back to
him. "Now then, I'm at your service."

"Well, what's the--er--usual costume for a christening?"

"Leave that to the mother," I said. "She'll see that the baby's dressed
properly."

"I mean for a godfather."

Dahlia has conveniently placed a sofa outside the bathroom door. I
dropped into it and surveyed the dressing-gown thoughtfully.

"Go like that," I said at last.

"What I want to know is whether it's a top-hat affair or not?"

"Have you brought a top-hat?"

"Of course."

"Then you must certainly---- I say! Come out of it, Myra!"

I jumped up from the sofa, but it was too late. She had stolen my bath.

"Well, of all the cheek----"

The door opened and Myra's head appeared round the corner.

"Hush! you'll wake the baby," she said. "Oh, Samuel, what a dream! _Why_
haven't I seen it before?"

"You have, Myra. I've often dressed up in it."

"Then I suppose it looks different with a sponge. Because----"

"Really!" I said as I took hold of Simpson and led him firmly away; "if
the baby knew that you carried on like this of a morning he'd be
shocked."

Thomas is always late for breakfast. Simpson on this occasion was
delayed by his elaborate toilet. They came in last together, by opposite
doors, and stood staring at each other. Simpson wore a frock-coat,
dashing double-breasted waistcoat, perfectly creased trousers, and a
magnificent cravat; Thomas had on flannels and an old blazer.

"By Jove!" said Archie,