“Has Mrs. George been ’ere?” he asked. “I don’t know,” replied Edwin. “Mr. Henderson says he’s awfully sorry but he won’t be able to get away. You are to kiss the baby for ’im.” “I don’t know anything about it.” “This is St. Bride’s, isn’t it?” “No, this is St. Paul’s.” “Oh!” The boy leapt on to the bicycle and also vanished. “This is absurd,” thought Edwin. “Of course, the whole thing is as plain as daylight. The poor girl has come to the wrong church. The whole party is at St. Bride’s, somebody must have taken the baby on there. I might as well take the perambulator along. They’ll be pleased. Now I wonder which is the way.” He wheeled the perambulator into the lane. There was no one about to ask. He progressed nearly two hundred yards till he came to a field with a pond in it. This was apparently the wrong direction. He was staring about when he suddenly became aware of a hue and cry. A party of people came racing down the lane headed by the thick-set man, who was exclaiming: “There he is! There he is!” Edwin felt his heart beating. This was going to be a little embarrassing. They closed on him. The thickset man seized his wrists and at the same time remarked: “See he hasn’t any firearms on him, Frank.” The large man alluded to as Frank gripped him from behind. “What have you done with my baby?” he demanded fiercely. “I ’aven’t seen no baby,” yelped Mr. Pothecary. “Oh! ’Aven’t yer! What are yer doin’ with my perambulator then?” “I’m takin’ it to St. Bride’s Church.” “Goin’ in the opposite direction.” “I didn’t know the way.” “Where’s the baby?” “I ’aven’t seen it, I tell yer. The mother said she’d lost it.” “What the hell! Do you know the mother’s in bed sick? You’re a liar, my man, and we’re goin’ to take you in charge. If you’ve done anything to my baby I’ll kill you with my hands.” “That’s it, Frank. Let ’im ’ave it. Throw ’im in the pond!” “I tell yer I don’t know anythin’ about it all, with yer Franks, Freds and Georges! Go to the devil, all of yer!” In spite of his protestations, some one produced a rope and they handcuffed him and tied him to the gate of the field. A small crowd had collected and began to boo and jeer. A man from a cottage hard by produced a drag, and between them they dragged the pond, as the general belief was that Edwin had tied a stone to the baby and thrown it in and was then just about to make off. The uproar continued for some time, mud and stones being thrown about rather carelessly. The crowd became impatient that no baby was found in the pond. At length another man turned up on a bicycle and called out: “What are you doing, Frank? You’ve missed the christening!” “What!” “Old Binns turned up with the nipper all right. He’d come round the wrong way.” The crowd was obviously disappointed at the release of Edwin, and the father’s only solatium was: “Well, it’s lucky for you, old bird!”