On the other side of Grannie and within Baby's sphere of influence was a man about whose profession there could be little doubt, even if he had not a bag on his knee and were not reading from a parchment document. After a long and serious consideration of the lawyer's clear-cut, clean-shaven, bloodless face, Baby leant forward and tapped gently on the deed, and then, when the keen face looked up in quick inquiry, Baby replied with a smile of roguish intelligence, as if to say, “Full of big words as long as myself, but quite useless; it could all have been said in a sentence, as you and I know quite well; by the way, that parchment would make an excellent drum; do you mind me? A tune has just come into my head.”  

 The lawyer, of course, drew away the deed, and frowned at the insolence of the thing? No, he did not—there is a soul in lawyers, if you know how to find it. He smiled. Well, it was not a first-rate smile, but I swear that it was genuine, and the next time he did it better, and afterwards it spread all over his face and lighted up his eyes. He had never been exposed in such a genial, irresistible way before, and so he held the drum, and Baby played a variation on “Rule Britannia” with much spirit, while grannie appealed for applause. 

 “If 'e don't play as well as the band in 'yde Park of a Sunday.”  

 After a well deserved rest of forty seconds, during which we wagged our heads in wonder, Baby turned his attention to his right-hand neighbour, and for the balance of the minute examined her with compassion. An old maid without question, with her disposition written on the thin, tightly drawn lips, and the hard, grey eyes. None of us would care to trifle with... Will he dare?... if he has not! That was his chief stroke of genius, and it deserved success—when, with an expression of unaffected pity, he put out his soft, dimpled hand and gently stroked her cheek. “Poor thing, all alone, 'lone, 'lone,” he cooed in her ear, as if to say with liquid baby speech, “I'm so solly, solly, solly, so velly, velly, velly solly.” Did I say that her eyes were tender and true enough to win a man's heart and keep it, and that her lips spoke of patience and gentleness? If I did not, I repair my neglect. She must have been a beautiful woman in her youth—no, no, to-day, just when she inclines her head ever so slightly, and Baby strokes her cheek again, and cooes, “Pretty, pretty, pretty, and so velly, velly, velly good.” Was not that a lovely flush on her cheek?—oh, the fool of a man who might have had that love. She opens a neat little bag, and as this was an imperial incident we watched without shame. Quite so; she is to be 

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