CHAPTER XIX

WHAT CAME OF FOPPERY


It was eight by the clock next morning before I set about my third
commission. To begin with, the bed pulled, and small wonder, since I had
not slept in a bed since leaving home. Then I took my fill of the books,
finding among them no less a prize than the _editio princeps_ of
Virgil, printed at Rome in 1469, which it was hard to let go. Next there
was Baby Blount to be waited upon, and his mother, a pretty, appealing
lady, with the glory of motherhood about her like a fairy garment. Part of
the ceremonial was the putting of Master Blount into my arms, which was
done very gingerly, with abundant cautions and precautions against my
crushing or dropping him. He had a skin like white satin and a silvery
down on his charming little head. Altogether I thought him a most
desirable possession for a man to have, and wished he was mine,
particularly when, to his father's outspoken chagrin, instead of puling he
stared steadily at me with big blue eyes and smiled.

"Precious ikkle ducksy-wucksy," said his mother.

"Ugly ikkle monkey-wonkey," cried his father. "Why the deuce can't he
smile at me?"

"Try him!" said I, handing him over to Sir James, glad to be free of the
responsibility.