My little boy is engaged to be married.
She is a big, large-limbed young woman, three years his senior, and no
doubt belongs to the minor aristocracy. Her name is Gertie. By a
misunderstanding, however, which is pardonable at his age and moreover
quite explained by Gertie's appearance, he calls her Dirty--little
Dirty--and by this name she will be handed down to history.
He met her on the boulevard, where he was playing, in the fine spring
weather, with other children. His reason for the engagement is good
enough:
"I wanted a girl for myself," he says.
Either I know very little of mankind or he has made a fortunate choice.
No one is likely to take Dirty from him.
Like the gentleman that he is, he at once brings the girl home to us and
introduces her. In consequence of the formality of the occasion, he does
not go in by the kitchen way, as usual, but rings the front-door bell. I
open the door myself. There he stands on the mat, hand in hand with
Dirty, his bride, and, with radiant eyes:
"Father," he says, "this is little Dirty. She is my sweetheart. We are
going to be married."
"That is what people usually do with their sweethearts," I answer,
philosophically. "Pray, Dirty, come in and be welcomed by the family."
"Wipe your feet, Dirty," says my little boy.
The mother of my little boy does not think much of the match. She has
even spoken of forbidding Dirty the house.
"We can't do that," I say. "I am not in ecstasies over it either, but it
is not at all certain that it will last."
"Yes, but . . ."
"Do you remember what little use it was when your mother forbade me the
house? We used to meet in the most incredible places and kiss each other
terribly. I can quite understand that you have forgotten, but you ought
to bear it in mind now that your son's beginning. And you ought to value
the loyalty of his behaviour towards his aged parents."
"My dear! . . ."
"And then I must remind you that it is spring. The trees are budding.
You can't see it, perhaps, from the kitchen-window or from your
work-table, but I, who go about all day, have noticed it. You know what
Byron says: