Once a Week. A. A. Milne

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       THE SPREADING WALNUT TREE

       DEFINITIONS

       A BILLIARD LESSON

       BURLESQUES

       THE SEASIDE NOVELETTE

       THE SECRET OF THE ARMY AEROPLANE

       THE HALO THEY GAVE THEMSELVES

       A DIDACTIC NOVEL

       MERELY PLAYERS

       ON THE BAT'S BACK

       UNCLE EDWARD

       THE RENASCENCE OF BRITAIN

       THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT

       ONE OF OUR SUFFERERS

       IN THE SWIM

       THE MEN WHO SUCCEED

       THE HEIR

       THE STATESMAN

       THE MAGNATE

       THE DOCTOR

       THE NEWSPAPER PROPRIETOR

       THE COLLECTOR

       THE ADVENTURER

       THE EXPLORER

NOTE

       Table of Contents

      These sketches have previously appeared in Punch, to whose proprietors I am much indebted for permission to reprint.

THE HEIR

       Table of Contents

THE HEIR

       Table of Contents

I.—HE INTRODUCES HIMSELF

       Table of Contents

      "In less refined circles than ours," I said to Myra, "your behaviour would be described as swank. Really, to judge from the airs you put on, you might be the child's mother."

      "He's jealous because he's not an aunt himself. Isn't he, ducksey darling?"

      "I do wish you wouldn't keep dragging the baby into the conversation; we can make it go quite well as a duologue. As to being jealous—why, it's absurd. True, I'm not an aunt, but in a very short time I shall be an uncle by marriage, which sounds to me much superior. That is," I added, "if you're still equal to it."

      Myra blew me a kiss over the cradle.

      "Another thing you've forgotten," I went on, "is that I'm down for a place as a godfather. Archie tells me that it isn't settled yet, but that there's a good deal of talk about it in the clubs. Who's the other going to be? Not Thomas, I suppose? That would be making the thing rather a farce."

      "Hasn't Dahlia broken it to you?" said Myra anxiously.

      "Simpson?" I asked, in an awed whisper.

      Myra nodded. "And, of course, Thomas," she said.

      "Heavens! Not three of us? What a jolly crowd we shall be. Thomas can play our best ball. We might——"

      "But of course there are only going to be two godfathers," she said, and leant over the cradle again.

      I held up my three end fingers. "Thomas," I said, pointing to the smallest, "me," I explained, pointing to the next, "and Simpson, the tall gentleman in glasses. One, two, three."

      "Oh, baby," sighed Myra, "what a very slow uncle by marriage you're going to have!"

      I stood and gazed at my three fingers for some time.

      "I've got it," I said at last, and I pulled down the middle one. "The rumour in the clubs was unauthorized. I don't get a place after all."

      "Don't say you mind," pleaded Myra. "You see, Dahlia thought that as you were practically one of the family already, an uncle-elect by marriage, and as she didn't want to choose between Thomas and Samuel——"

      "Say no more. I was only afraid that she might have something against my moral character. Child," I went on, rising and addressing the unresponsive infant, "England has lost a godfather this day, but the world has gained a——what? I don't know. I want my tea."

      Myra gave the baby a last kiss and got up.

      "Can I trust him with you while I go and see about Dahlia?"

      "I'm not sure. It depends how I feel. I may change him with some poor baby in the village. Run away, aunt, and leave us men to ourselves. We have several matters to discuss."

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