yra rushed up to him.

"Poor little darling," she said soothingly. "Did his uncle by marriage
frighten him, then?"

"Don't listen to her, Dahlia," I said. "I haven't done anything to him.
We were chatting together quite amicably until he suddenly caught sight
of Myra and burst into tears."

"He's got a little pain," said Dahlia gently taking him up and patting
him.

"I think the trouble is mental," suggested Archie. "He looks to me as if
he had something on his conscience. Did he say anything to you about it
when you were alone?"

"He didn't say much," I confessed, "but he seemed to be keeping
something back. I think he wants a bit of a run, really."

"Poor little lamb," said Dahlia. "There, 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 go