BROWN’S NEW BABY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3829, 2 August 1927, Page 81

BROWN’S NEW BABY.

Bv

Carlson E. Holmes.

(Copyright. —For the Otago Witness, i When I returned from the East I unearthed Jack Brown, once sharer of all my confidences and stable-companion in a "score of indifferent boarding houses. He had married during my absence. A fine girl. I recollected her distinctly. She could wield a golf club with the best, and sat a saddle as if she were built into it. Everybody said it was an ideal match, because she and Brown had the same tastes in all things. He was obviously glad to see me, and, as I expected, I was asked home to meet Mrs Brown. He gave me a shock, though, when he added—“ and the family.” It made me- realise just how long I had been away. “The family?” I queried. “ Yes. One.”

“Girl?” “ No.” “ Then it must be a boy.” “It is. My son. Six months old, and an ideal child. You’ll like him.” 1 thought I should. Brown and his wife were such a pair of sportsmen that a child of theirs must certainly- be a treat. And yet * * * Mrs Brown, her husband, and I stood outside the door that guarded the Treasure. We stood there for 15 .minutes. It seems that Bobby- (horrible name!) could not possibly be aroused until the clock struck 4 p.m. At last! The wail of an invisible cuckoo was wafted to us, and we entered. But the Treasure had forestalled us. He was very much awake. “ Glub, ook blah?” he asked as his mother stood over him. Mrs Brown beamed on me. “ Bobby wants to know your name. ’ I saw a chance to make friends with Bobby. It seemed dashed silly, but I murmured: “Im’s urns noo unky! ” Brown and his wife were horrified. He voiced, on their joint behalf, a most indignant protest. “ Must not talk like that, old man. Only good English is spoken in our child’s presence.” “Ah, ha! I see, Brown, that you’re going to make a gentleman crook of him.” Surely that was worth a laugh.

“ Please,” entreated Brown’s partner in joys and sorrows. “ Please don’t talk like "that. Every child has a subconscious mind.” “ Eh?”

She warmed to the subject in hand. “ Yes, a subconscious mind. It collects impressions that may seriously affect the child’s after-life. Jack and I talk only of art and literature in his presence.”

“ and music, my dear, an music,” from Brown.

“ Yes, and music, too. Why, do you know that even your thoughts are transferred to a child’s plastic brain ? ” I hastily changed my thoughts —for Bobby’s sake. “Whom do you think he’s like?” asked Brown. “ He has your nose,” I said, wishing to be on safe ground, though in very truth the child’s proboscis looked as if it had been thrown at, and had, bychance, adhered to its face. “ But it has its mother’s mouth.” Tact is everything. For a change the Browns were delighted. So to further the good work I tickled the child where it parked-its lunch.

“ My- dear old chap,” objected Brown. “ Don’t you understand that it is bad for Bobby’s diaphragm? You must never tickle a child there. On the soles of its feet, if you will; but near the diaphragm —decidedly, no!” “ Sorry.” Brown’s condescension was magnificent. “ That is all right. Let us forget it. But the diaphragm is indeed important. Isn’t it, dear?”

Mrs Brown agreed {hat. all things considered, the diaphragm was an essential piece of machinery. Again the invisible cuckoo cuckooed. “ Bah, goo, glush,” drawled Bobby, with no little nonchalance.

“There you are,” Brown proudly broadcasted. “He knows it’s time for his afternoon meal. Don’t you, Bobby? A nice, big bottle, full of Hercules Food. Do you realise, old man, that there are more food calories in a spoonful of Hercules Food than in a pound of steak?” “Go on. With or without onions?” “ ... . or in eight fresh eggs?” “ Well, let’s write to the hens about

“ . . . .or in three uncooked cabbages,” added Mrs Brown. Then it was that I thought of Jenkins, once a friend of us all. “Well, I’ll hop along. I want to see Jenkins.” “Not in front of Bobby, ple.qse. Why, Mr Jenkins drinks and smokes. Further, please don’t say- ‘ hop/ ” “ Good-oh!” “ We wish ...” “ Yes, Brown, please wish. But I’m going to hop along to see Jenkins. Cheerio.” * * * Since then, .1 have not crossed Brown's trail. I am waiting for the years to pass, hoping that—in the guise of the Old Family Friend—l may visit Bobby in prison. May- he be sojourning in chokey on eighteen charges.