Every yard he walked, the conviction grew firmer in him that this was the case. It was surely the duty of elderly gentlemen with well-brushed eyebrows to rejoice in that degree. There was a man he knew well, a member of Parliament, looking so pink and prosperous, with a small girl holding one hand and a small boy holding the other. Envy and sorrow were not in that heart, it was certain.
Could it be that his recent policy had been vain and weak and shortsighted? The great Proconsul had never asked himself such questions before, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that he would have to be asking them presently. A grandfather had surely no right to make himself as ridiculous as he had done.
Then it was that the great Proconsul came right opposite the Achilles statue, and the episode to which we have already referred got itself made into history. A certain Mr. Wingrove, a famous dramatist who had been elected recently under the rule honoris causâ to Grandfather’s club, and with whom Grandfather was upon pleasantly familiar terms, came into view. Walking by the side of Mr. Wingrove was a charming-looking girl. She had charge of a most commodious double perambulator, and so proudly was she trundling it that it was quite clear to the acute perception of the great Proconsul that this was a case of Twins.
Grandfather, in his present somewhat emotional state, must needs stop and shake Mr. Wingrove heartily by the hand. And, further, he was constrained to offer his sincere congratulations. He overflowed with admiration.
“And what are their names?” he asked.
“One is called Bow, and the other is called Wow,” said the demure young mother.
It seemed passing strange to Mr. Wingrove that the great Proconsul should not know the names of his own grandchildren, and, moreover, that he should not recognize them and their mother. Then a light dawned suddenly upon him. Further, it seemed to this sagacious mind that in the absence of the lawful father, who had turned his horse and who was going now down the Row at a canter, that a legitimate opportunity had presented itself for the exercise of the comic spirit.
“I should really like my wife to see them,” said the great Proconsul. “Such splendid fellows; the picture of health.”
“Oh, yes, by all means,” said Mr. Wingrove, with a rather sly smile at the proud young mother.
No time like the present. If Mrs. W. didn’t mind bringing along these infant phenomena as far as Grosvenor Square, which is hardly ten minutes’ walk from the Achilles statue as the crow flies, he was sure that Lady S. would be enchanted.