. If you would
kindly send them."

III

So there it is. I have given the spirit rather than the actual letter,
of what happened at the Stores. But that the things have been ordered
there is no doubt. And when Margery wakes up on Christmas Day to find a
sideboard and a box of cigars in her sock I hope she will remember that
she has chiefly her mother to thank for it.

II. HOW WE PLAY THE PIANOLA

[FOREWORD. Margery wishes me to publish the following
correspondence, which has recently passed between us. It occurs to
me that the name under which I appear in it may perhaps need
explanation. I hate explanations, but here it is.

When Margery was eight months old, she was taught to call me
"Uncle." I must suppose that at this time I was always giving her
things--things she really wanted, such as boot-laces, the best
china, evening papers and so on--which had been withheld by those
in authority. Later on, these persons came round to my way of
thinking, and gave her, if not the best china, at any rate cake and
bread-and-butter. Naturally their offerings, being appreciated at
last, were greeted with the familiar cry of "Uncle," "No, dear, not
'Uncle,' 'Thank-you,'" came the correction.]

I

_Dear Thankyou_,--I've some wonderful news for you! Guess what it is;
but no, you never will. Well, I'll tell you. I can walk! Really and
really.

It is most awfully interesting. You put one foot out to the right, and
then you bring the left after it. That's one walk, and I have done seven
altogether. You have to keep your hands out in front of you, so as to
balance properly. That's all the rules--the rest is just knack. I got it
quite suddenly. It is such fun; I wake up about five every morning now,
thinking of it.

Of course I fall down now and then. You see, I'm only beginning. When I
fall, Mother comes and picks me up. That reminds me, I don't want you to
call me "Baby" any more now I can walk. Babies can't walk, they just get
carried about and put in perambulators. I was given a lot of names a
long time ago, but I forget what they were. I think one was rather
silly, like Margery, but I have never had it used lately. Mother always
calls me O.D. now.

Good-bye. Write directly you get this.

Your loving.
O.D.

II

_My Dear O.D._,--I was so glad to get your letter, becau