"I'm afraid I'll bend him in the wrong place," I protests. "Goose!" says she. "Of course you won't." "Suppose I should drop him?" says I. "You can't if you take him just as I show you," she goes on patient. "Now, sit down in that chair. Crook your left arm like this. Now hold your knees together, and we'll just put the little precious right in your---- There! Why, you're doing it splendidly." "Am I?" says I. I might have believed her if I hadn't caught a glimpse of myself in the glass. Say, I was sittin' there as easy and graceful as if I'd been made of structural iron and reinforced concrete. Stiff! Them stone lions in front of the Public Lib'ry was frolicsome lambs compared to me. And I was wearin' the same happy look on my face as if I was havin' a tooth plugged. Course that had to be just the time when Mr. Robert Ellins happened in for his first private view. Mrs. Robert had towed him down special. He's a reg'lar friend, though, Mr. Robert is. I can't say how much of a struggle he had to keep his face straight, but after the first spasm has worn off he don't show any more signs of wantin' to cackle. And he don't pull any end-man stuff. "Well, well, Torchy!" says he. "A son and heir, eh? I salute you." "Same to you and many of 'em," says I, grinnin' simple. It was the first thing that came into my head, but I guess I'd better not have let it out. Mrs. Robert pinks up, Vee snickers, and they both hurries into the next room. "Thank you, Torchy," says Mr. Robert. "Within certain limitations, I trust your wish comes true. But I say--how does it feel, being a father?" "Just plain foolish," says I. "Eh?" says he. "Honest, Mr. Robert," says I, "I never felt so much like a ham sandwich at a Chamber of Commerce banquet as I do right now. I'm beginnin' to suspect I've been miscast for the part." "Nonsense!" says he soothin'. "You appear to be getting along swimmingly. I'm sure I wouldn't know how to hold a baby at all." "You couldn't know less'n I do about it at present writing," says I. "I don't dare move, and both my legs are asleep from the knees down. Do me a favor and call for help, won't you?" "Oh, I say!" he calls out. "The starboard watch wants to be relieved." So Vee comes back and pries the baby out of my grip. "Isn't he absurd!" says she. "But he will soon learn. All men are like that at first, I suppose." "Hear that, Mr. Robert?" says I. "That's what I call a sun-cured disposition." She'd make a good animal-trainer, Vee; she's so persistent and patient. After dinner she jollies me into tryin' it again. "You needn't sit so rigid, you know," she coaches me. "Just relax naturally and let his little head rest easy in the hollow of your arm. No, you don't have to grab him with the other hand. Let him kick his legs if he wants to. See, he is looking up at you! Yes, I believe he is. Do you see Daddy? Do you, precious?" "Must be some sight," I murmurs. "What am I supposed to do now?"