I sat
down to breakfast almost cheerful again. It was the first bit of silver
lining there had been to the cloud up to date.
"And after all," I said, "there's lots to be said for having a
child about the house, if you know what I mean. Kind of cosy and
domestic--what!"
Just then the kid upset the milk over Freddie's trousers, and when he
had come back after changing his clothes he began to talk about what a
much-maligned man King Herod was. The more he saw of Tootles, he said,
the less he wondered at those impulsive views of his on infanticide.
Two days later Jimmy Pinkerton came down. Jimmy took one look at the
kid, who happened to be howling at the moment, and picked up his
portmanteau.
"For me," he said, "the hotel. I can't write dialogue with that sort of
thing going on. Whose work is this? Which of you adopted this little
treasure?"
I told him about Mr. Medwin and the mumps. Jimmy seemed interested.
"I might work this up for the stage," he said. "It wouldn't make a bad
situation for act two of a farce."
"Farce!" snarled poor old Freddie.
"Rather. Curtain of act one on hero, a well-meaning, half-baked sort of
idiot just like--that is to say, a well-meaning, half-baked sort of
idiot, kidnapping the child. Second act, his adventures with it. I'll
rough it out to-night. Come along and show me the hotel, Reggie.
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