BRIGGS, OF BALLIOL.
Part II.
Two years passed, and never a syllable could I learn of Briggs. Then I met Trotter of Trinity at Piccadilly Circus. "By the way," said he, "I suppose you have heard about poor old Briggs?" "No!" I cried. "What of him?" "Oh, I thought you would be sure to know, or I would have broken it to you more gently." "Why?" I asked, with apprehension. "Has anything happened to him?" "Well," he replied, with some hesitation, "I—er—I hardly like to tell you. You were such a friend of his." "You don't mean to say that he is——?" "Dead? No, poor fellow, not dead exactly, but worse than that, I fear. He has become a New Man, you see." I looked at Trotter in bewilderment. "Why, you see, he is married—yes, he married the O'Gress, you know. Poor Briggs! I saw him yesterday, and, upon my word, I should scarcely have known him. But go and see him yourself; you will never believe my story."
Trotter wrote me the address on a card, and the next day I called. The maid looked somewhat surprised when I asked for Mr. Briggs. He was at home, oh, yes, he was at home, but she didn't know whether he could see me or not, as he was feeding the baby. This announcement rather staggered me, but I pulled myself together sufficiently to assure her that I was an old friend of Mr. Briggs; and, on learning this, she asked me to walk upstairs. "This is the nursery," she said, when we had reached the topmost storey. "You will find Mr. Briggs inside."
I opened the door, and what a scene greeted me! There was Briggs, my old friend Briggs, the gallant Briggs of Balliol, rocking ceaselessly to and fro the while he crooned in a low monotone to a bundle of pins and flannel that lay cradled in his arms. I sprang forward to grip him by the hand. He laid his finger on his lips, and in an agonised whisper murmured, "Sh!—You'll wake the baby!" I controlled myself, and sank into a chair, to which he motioned me. Briggs hushed the infant anxiously for a minute or two until it was well asleep; then he turned to me, and with a sickly smile whispered, "I'm glad to see you, Robinson, but please talk very gently, for fear of waking the Cutsababoo."
It grieved me to hear poor Briggs talk in this fashion, but there were a thousand questions I was burning to ask him.
"Oh, Briggs, why did you leave Balliol so suddenly?" "Sh!" he answered, looking nervously round him. "She took me away." "And why did you never write to anyone?" "Sh! She forbade me." "Forbade you?" "Yes, yes, indeed. Oh, Robinson, you do not know my wife!" I was inwardly thanking my stars that I had not this honour when Briggs, overcome with his emotion, suddenly flung up his arms and covered his face with his hands. The action upset the equilibrium of the baby, which rolled off his lap, fell on the floor, and awoke with a scream. With a cry of dismay Briggs caught up the bundle, and tossed it violently up and down, addressing it the while in such intelligible terms as these—"And did it wake its darling ducky Cutsababoo, it did! It was a naughty cruel Dada, it was!"
It would be hard to say which made the greater noise, Briggs or the baby; but Briggs had the staying power, and after a fight the baby gave it up. Briggs gazed at it as it lay exhausted in his arms, then turning to me, he said, "I think the Cutsababoo has done crying now, Robinson. Will you excuse me if I sing him to by-byes?" In olden days Briggs had a glorious baritone voice, and to hear him sing the Balliol Boating Song was a musical treat. I therefore readily agreed to stay and listen. "The Duckydoo is very particular," explained Briggs. "He will only go to sleep to his own ickle tune, The New Lullaby."
"Mummy has gone to the city,
Cutsaba—Cutsababoo!
But Mummy will think of her Pretty,
And buy him a little toy too.
Daddy will dandle the Darling,
And show him his beautiful toy.
Hushaby, Pet! Baby, don't fret!
Sleepery, Peepery Boy!
"Mummy is making the money,
Cutsaba—Cutsababoo!
To buy a new bonnet for sonny,
A jacket for Daddykins too.
Daddy will dandle the Darling,
And show him his beautiful toy.
Hushaby, Pet! Baby, don't fret!
Sleepery, Peepery Boy!"