He spread his gifts before my son; and it befell that my son passed them all by, with no more than a grunt of approval, until he came to the silver cup. It was huge, more like a tankard than a cup, and Eve and I had laughed at it as a gift for a baby—but let it pass—at least it had no sharp corners. And when my son, in his inspection, had come to that cup, he gave a crow of delight and grasped it by the two handles, one on either side, and lifted it. I had not thought it possible, for it was heavy; but he had his heart set upon it, and he did it—and I was proud and let my pride show. And he managed to get the cup well nigh over his face, and then he roared into it; and the cup roared back at him again. He was astonished—he slipped the cup aside to see how we took it—then, seeing us laughing, he laughed, too, and roared again. Now he lies and plays by the hour with that cup, roaring into it, and making all manner of queer noises, and listens to it. And that Rich man sits beside him, and they play together.
Eve had the christening—or baptizing—in our little country church. I had left the whole to her, to manage as she saw fit; and when, in the church, I looked about, and saw those that she had bid to the feast, I was somewhat surprised—until I remembered. There were Old Goodwin and that Rich man, of course, and my friends; but there, too, were Judson and Burdon and my other neighbors. And there was Mrs. Goodwin, looking—but I did not look at her, after the first, so I know not how she looked. And when it was all done, I lingered, for a reason of my own, and walked with Judson, and Burdon walked with us. An old man walks but slowly. So it came to pass that we were the last. And, having entered my own house, I found Eve and Old Goodwin and that other Rich man sitting in a half circle; and, at the centre of that circle, with my son in her arms, sat Mrs. Goodwin.
I walked up to her quickly. “Mrs. Goodwin,” I said, “I rejoice that you are here,—at last.”
So speaking, I held out my hand. And she took it, and would have spoken, too, but she could not. She hid her face on the shoulder of him that was but just baptized; and he, thinking, no doubt, that he had had enough of water for one day, set up a wail. And I turned me about and went forth and left them.
The Riverside Press
Electrotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.