"This is Duncan. I brought him down for your boy to play with."
"Duncan, of course. The boy will love it. He's tired of me already. He proposes to meet his godfathers at four p.m. precisely. So you'll have nearly three hours to think of something genial to say to him."
We spent the last of the three hours playing tennis, and at four p.m. precisely the introduction took place. By great good luck Duncan was absent; Simpson would have wasted his whole two minutes in making it squeak.
"Baby," said Dahlia, "this is your Uncle Thomas."
"Hallo!" said Thomas, gently kissing the baby's hand. "Good old boy," and he felt for his pipe.
"Baby," said Dahlia, "this is your Uncle Samuel."
As he leant over the child I whipped out my watch and murmured, "Go!" 4 hrs. 1 min. 25 sec. I wished Myra had not taken my "two minutes" so literally, but I felt that the golf-ball was safe.
Simpson looked at the baby as if fascinated, and the baby stared back at him. It was a new experience for both of them.
"He's just like Archie," he said at last, remembering my advice. "Only smaller," he added.
4 hrs. 2 min. 7 sec.