Life — April 5, 1917 — page 50: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

T is extraordinary how easily some people are offended. About the middle of July my wife and I ai cepted an invitation to take tea with our neighbors, the Joneses, who had just acquired a baby—their first. If 1 had remembered this nothing would have induced me to put in an appear- ance. I candidly admit that I am averse to very young children; they frighten me. Ihave always been of opinion that the wisest and most merciful plan would be to bring them up under an anesthetic till they reached the age of about six. We were not the only people at the Joneses’; there were several others there. From the first I noticed on more than one face a look of expectancy. Jones himself betrayed a feverish ani- mation, strange in a man whom I had always regarded as being of a rather phlegmatic temperament, and as the meal wore on his excitement seemed gradually to communicate itself to the whole assembly. No, not quite to the whole of I must give the curate his due. Safely anchored in a back- water behind the piano, without haste but without a pause he ate his way methodically through the bread-and- butter to the cream buns and back again. I found a strange comfort in watch- ing him at work,—a_ strong, silent soul oblivious of everything save the k before him. At last with a tired sigh he placed his cup and saucer on his plate and stretched himself in his chair. Tea was over. A moment later, without the slightest warning, the new baby was brought in and handed round, and I realized what it was we had all been waiting for. I dislike these abrupt appearances; they unnerve me. Before I had had time to pull myself together again it was my turn. “Well, what do you think of him?" asked Jones with a smile. This under any circumstances would have been a question most difficult to answer to his satisfaction. As it was, "LIFE: Putting Things Right By Richard Dark taken off my guard and not a little flurried, I inadvertently gave vent to the impression that uppermost in my mind. “T think,” 1 said, “that he would be more complete with a handful of nuts.” The smile faded from Jones’s face, and a hush fell on the room. Every- body looked at me. I realized that I had made a mistake. What was it 1 ought to have said? All at once I re- membered, “He is the image of both of you,” I added At this the baby, which had so far appeared merely bored, suddenly broke down and burst into tears, sobbing con- vulsively from the legs upwards. Its distress was really heart-breaking, and all efforts to soothe it having failed, it mother was forced to remove it from the room. I was very sorry. If I had realized that the child was likely to understand what was said about it I should certainly have been more guarded. But when I tried to explain this to Jones he looked pointedly away from me and asked the curate to sing. I was thankful when, a little later, the gathering broke up and we got away. A day or two after the Jone: tea- party I went off for my annual sip weeks’ fishing holiday. On my return I began to meet Jones again in the course of our daily pilgrimages to and from the city, but it was evident at once that he had not forgiven me. He contented himself with the briefest of nods and coldly repelled one or two efforts on my part to put our rela- tions on the old friendly footing. “So far as I can see,” said my wife, when I discussed the question with her, “there’s only one really valid ex- cuse for a remark like yours about their baby.” “What is that?” I asked. “Insanity,” she replied. “You don't think it would be any good my sending Jones a peace offer- ing—say a hox of cigars or a new per- ambulator?"” “Tt would be merely adding to injury. No, I can see no wa of it. I went out of the house and strolled thoughtfully round the garden. Next day I caught Jones alone in evening train from town. As | tered the carriage he looked up for a moment, then ostentatiously buried himself behind his paper. When we were clear of Liverpool Street I opened fire. “ Jones,” I said, “ what on earth has come over you lately?” “TL beg your pardon,” he replied. “One would almost think,” I con: tinued, “that I had done something to offend you.” “You have,” he said grimly “What is it?” “ Your idiotic remark about my “Your baby? Have you really got a baby? My dear fellow, I congratulate you.” “If this is a joke,” said Jones can only say that it is in extremely bac taste.” “T assure you,” I answered earnest- ly, “that I should be the last man to jest on such a subject.” “Do you mean to say you have for- gotten the afternoon you came to tea with us and tried to make a laughing- stock of our child?” I started, leant forward in my seat and buried my face in my hands “Wait a moment,” I muttered. “Tam beginning to remember. I came to tea, you said, You had a party?” “We had.” “Tt is coming back to me. Yes, yes, I see them all. I see you talking to an old lady with an ear-trumpet. I see the curate in a corner, busy among: the buns. T see—" I broke off abrupt- ly and gazed at him with a bewildered air. “Don't you see a baby who reminds you of a monkey?” asked Jones hit- terly. I shook my head. “No, I can’t re- member any baby. But I have a feel- (Continued on page 606) comichooks.com