Duncan shook his head.
"You're completely wrong this time."
"Well, why didn't you laugh?" I asked.
He grinned.
"I dunno. Possibly it is because I first heard that joke in my cradle."
* * * * *
Mac's infant mistress was off duty to-day owing to an attack of influenza, and he gladly accepted my offer to take her place.
Half-an-hour after my entry into the room Mac came in to see how I was getting on. Most of the infants were swarming over me, and Mac frowned. At his frown they all crept back silently to their seats.
"You seem to have the fatal gift of demoralising children," he growled.
It hadn't struck me before, but it is a fact; I do demoralise children. Not long ago I entered a Montessori school, and I spoke not one word. In five minutes the insets and long stairs were lying neglected in the middle of the floor, and the kiddies were scrambling over me. I felt very guilty for I feared that if Montessori herself were to walk in she would be indignant. I cannot explain why I affect kiddies in this way. It may be that intuitively they know that I do not inspire fear or respect; it may be that they unconsciously recognise the baby in me. Anyway, as Mac says, it is a fatal gift.