And, now, though it is come to the last of November, the fall is kind to us, and Eve walks beside the coach as the nurse wheels it. Where they go when I am not with them I do not know--but I suspect. For Mrs. Goodwin sent, every day, a maid to get the news of Eve. She would not come herself, though she was near it twenty times, and had well nigh set her foot to the steep path; but, always, her stubborn pride prevented. But Old Goodwin is his grandson’s shadow. I shall yet be jealous of him. And so it was come time that we speak of a certain weighty matter. “Eve,” said I, one day, “I suppose that you will have him christened.” For whenever we say “him” we mean our son; and no doubt I should have said baptized--I did not know about such things. And Eve was smiling. “Yes,” she answered, “I should like it--and soon, Adam, if we may.” “And what is his name to be?” I asked. “For that is a trifle that must be settled first, I suppose.” “I suppose it must,” she said. “And I--what would you name him, Adam?” “I had thought of giving him your father’s name,” I answered, “but”-- And I stammered and hesitated and grew red. But come it must. “That rich man, Eve”-- She laughed aloud, with joy, I thought; and she seized me about the neck and kissed me. “Oh,” she cried, “I _hoped_ you would. And I will write to him, for he must be godfather.” And so she did write to him, and he came--laden with peace-offerings. And as I met him at my gate he took my hand and gripped it. “Adam,” he said--and this time, too, I doubted if he knew what he called me--but I did not care. “Adam, it was good of you to think of me--it was kind.” His voice was not steady; but Eve was close behind me, and he must say his greetings to her. So I did not find out whether my voice was any steadier than his. 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.