Part 42 (1/2)

”Wearing me out, this job is.”

He displayed his paper of cues.

Mrs. Welwyn regarded him severely.

”It's time you dressed yourself,” she said. ”I have put my son's evening clothes out for you--in the bathroom,” she added pointedly.

”You had better go and put them on. He is bigger than you, but you'll manage.”

Mr. Stillbottle acquiesced.

”Very good,” he remarked graciously. ”Wardrobe mistress must be obeyed, I suppose. I'm beginning to warm up to this part. I shall surprise you all yet.”

”I hope not,” murmured Mr. Welwyn devoutly.

”Did you tell him about the name, Father?” prompted Amelia.

”No, I forgot,” said Mr. Welwyn. ”Mr. Stillbottle, I think this afternoon that we had better address you by some other name than your own.”

”What,” enquired Mr. Stillbottle, with a touch of hauteur, ”is the matter with me own little patteronymic?”

”Just to sustain the character, you know,” urged Mr. Welwyn.

Mr. Stillbottle sighed, in humorous resignation.

”All right,” he said. ”Confer the t.i.tle.”

Mr. Welwyn turned to his wife.

”What do you say to 'Howard,' Mother?” he asked.

”Nothing with an H in front of it for _me_, dearie, if you please,”

announced Mrs. Welwyn firmly. ”I can see enough rocks of that kind ahead of me this afternoon as it is.”

”Why not 'Russell'?” suggested Amelia. ”Russell Square, you know.”

Mrs. Welwyn stroked her resourceful little daughter's hair gratefully.

”That will do finely,” she said. ”You are Russell,” she announced briefly to Mr. Stillbottle.

The newly christened infant acquiesced listlessly, and rose from the sofa.

”Now I must tear myself away,” he said, ”to don me trunks and 'ose and get up this patter. I'm a slow study. No promptin', I presume?”

”No,” said Mr. Welwyn.

”Gaggin' permitted?” enquired Mr. Stillbottle, without much hope.

”Certainly not.”