It was Sunday afternoon, and Bruce, lunch still pervading his consciousness, found himself reading over and over again and taking a kind of stupefied interest in the 'Answers to Correspondents' in a certain Sunday paper, and marvelling at the mine of extraordinary miscellaneous information possessed by the person who answered them.
'To Miserable Alfred (Baldness).—If you comply with the rules, will send private advice.
'Knutford (For knee trouble).—My advice is against.' (Bruce vaguely thought this rather harsh. If Knutford liked knee trouble, why shouldn't he have it?)
'Alter Ego (Tomato culture).—There's no need to soak the seeds for days. The man who sows in wet soil and then treads down flat foredooms himself to complete failure. This is, however, nothing to go by. If seed be purchased let it be from a trustworthy firm. Personally, I think in the case of outdoor tomatoes the middle course is best.
'Worried (Photography).—To avoid curling. The chief trouble with reel films is their tendency to curl. In any case the film should be allowed to soak for five minutes, and I need not dwell upon other methods of treating the latter kind. All my remarks on plate development, etc., apply equally to cut films, as I should almost have thought 'Worried' would have gathered by now.
'True Blue (Egg-preserving).—We quite understand your desire to make more headway than you can in a south-coast watering-place….'
At this moment Edith came in. Bruce looked up a little annoyed at the interruption. He was becoming quite absorbed in the egg-preserving case on the south coast, and morbidly anxious to know what would happen next.
'Bruce, I wonder if you'd do me a very great favour? It really isn't difficult. I've allowed nurse to go out and Bennett is busy, and I wanted to fly over just for a minute or two to see Hyacinth. She telephoned to me. I shouldn't be gone more than twenty minutes.'
'Of course, go. Do go. I don't want you. I'm very busy.'
'It isn't that; but would you very much mind looking after Archie while I'm gone? He'll be perfectly good. I'll give him his box of toys, and he'll sit in the corner over there and you'll never notice he's there till I'm back again.'
'Of course, of course. Surely I'm capable of looking after my own son.
Do go.'
'Yes, Bruce dear. And if he asks for anything just nod and smile and don't give it to him, and he'll be all right.'
As she was going out he called out—
'And I say, Edith, just give him a hint that I've got some rather important work to do, and he mustn't interrupt me by asking foolish questions.'
'Yes, oh yes. I'm so glad to think you're so sensible, and not ridiculously nervous of having to look after the child.'
'Nervous? What rot! I never heard such nonsense. I say, Edith, what's the doctor's address? In case he has a fit, or anything.'
'Oh, Bruce! As if he would dream of having a fit! I shan't give you the address. You'd be telephoning to him on the chance. Good gracious, don't make such a fuss! I shall only be gone a few minutes.'
'I'm not making a fuss. It's you. Fancy thinking it necessary to tell me not to give him what he asks for! As if I should.'
He returned to his paper, and Edith brought in the little boy.
He gave his father a keen glance from under his smooth, fair fringe and sat down in front of the box of toys.
As soon as Edith had gone he held out a card to his father, and said—
Bruce frowned, nodded, waved his hand, and went on reading.
He had lost the thread of the Egg Question, but became equally absorbed in the following problem.
'Disheartened.—You must make a quiet but determined stand against such imposition. It does not follow because you walked out with a young man two or three times, and he now walks out with your friend instead, that …'
'X for swordfish,' said Archie, holding out another card.
'I've got my best suit on,' said Archie.
'Yes.'
'Don't talk, old chap. I want to read.'
'This is my bear. It's the same bear.'
'Why, the same bear! This is a soldier.'
He put the wooden soldier in his mouth, then put it carefully back in the box.
'This is my bear,' said Archie again. 'Just the same bear. That's all.'
'You want to have a talk, eh?' he said.
'This is my best suit,' said Archie. 'Have you any sugar in your pockets?'
'Sugar in my pockets? Who put that into your head?'
'Nobody didn't put it in my head. Don't you put any in your pocket?'
'No. Sugar, indeed! I'm not a parrot.'
'You're not a parrot!' he said, laughing loudly. 'Wouldn't it be fun if you was a parrot. I wish you was a parrot.'
'Do parrots keep sugar in their pockets?'
'Play with your soldiers, dear.'
'Why did you say parrots had sugar in their pockets, then?'
'I never said anything of the kind.'
'What do parrots have pockets for?'
'Do you think your mother will be long?'
'Will mother know about parrots and pockets?'
'You're talking nonsense, Archie. Now be good. Your mother said you would be good.'
'Is it naughty to talk about parrots—with pockets?'
'Yes.'
'Then you're very naughty. You talk about them.'
'Will you stop talking about them if I get you some sugar?' said Bruce, feeling frightfully ashamed of himself, but fearing for his reason if Archie said any more on the subject.
'I'm a good boy. I'll stop talking about parrots if you get me some sugar.'
He put his hand in his father's with a most winning smile.
'I'll show you where it is. It's in the kitchen. It's in the nursery, too, but it's nicer sugar in the kitchen.'
'I oughtn't to give it you. Your mother will be angry.'
'Do parrots have pockets?'
Bruce jumped up and went with the child, and told the cook to give him six lumps of sugar.
She seemed surprised, amused, and doubtful.
'Do as I tell you at once,' Bruce said sternly.
They came back, and Archie was silent and happy until Edith returned.
When she saw traces of sugar on his face and dress she said—
'Oh, Archie! What on earth did your father give you sugar for?'