his arduous and
responsible post before seven o'clock in the evening. Later on, when
things were going more smoothly, he might be able to get away; but
then, later on, his son's bath would not be so amusing and agreeable as
it then, by all reports, was. The baby was, of course, bathed on
Saturday nights, but Sunday afternoon and evening Mr Blackshaw was
obliged to spend with his invalid mother at Longshaw. It was on the
sole condition of his weekly presence thus in her house that she had
consented not to live with the married pair. And so Mr Blackshaw could
not witness Roger's bath. He adored Roger. He understood Roger. He
weighed, nursed, and fed Roger. He was 'up' in all the newest theories
of infant rearing. In short, Roger was his passion, and he knew
everything of Roger except Roger's bath. And when his wife met him at
the front door of a night at seven-thirty and launched instantly into a
description of the wonders, delights, and excitations of Roger's latest
bath, Mr Blackshaw was ready to tear his hair with disappointment and
frustration.

'I suppose you couldn't put it off for a couple of hours one night,
May?' he suggested at supper on the evening of the particular bath
described above.

'Sidney!' protested Mrs Blackshaw, pained.

Mr Blackshaw felt that he had gone too far, and there was a silence.

'Well!' said Mr Blackshaw at length, 'I have just made up my mind. I'm
going to see that Kid's bath, and, what's more, I'm going to see it
tomorrow. I don't care what happens.'

'But how shall you manage to get away, darling?'

'You will telephone me about a quarter of an hour before you're ready
to begin, and I'll pretend it's something very urgent, and scoot off.'

'Well, that will be lovely, darling!' said Mrs Blackshaw. 'I WOULD like
you to see him in the bath, just once! He looks so--'

And so on.

The next day, Mr Blackshaw, that fearsome autocrat of the Municipal
Electricity Works, was saying to himself all day that at five o'clock
he was going to assist at the spectacle of his wonderful son's bath.
The prospect inspired him. So much so that every hand on the place was
doing its utmost in fear and trembling, and the whole affair was
running with the precision and smoothness of a watch.

From four o'clock onwards, Mr Blackshaw, in the solemn, illuminated
privacy of the managerial office, safe behind glass partitions, could
no more contain his excitement. He hovered in front of the telephone,
wait