It was awkward to have something for which you could find no name,
especially when it was something that you had begun to love already.
"We'll have to ask someone," the Man said. "If I knew where He was,
I might ask----"
The Woman's face blanched. "Not God," she begged. "Because of the fruit
we ate, He might take it from us."
Just then they were disturbed by a rustling of snow. Looking up, they
saw the rabbit, watching them with timid eyes and recovering his breath
after the long climb.
"What d'you want?" the Man asked sharply.
The rabbit flicked his white scut and sat up on his hind-legs, his
whiskers quivering with excitement.
"I want to see it," he panted. "The dog's been boasting. I hurried
because I wanted to be the first to see it. I'm so little; I couldn't do
it any harm."
"Let him see it," said the Woman. "He's gentle. He might be able to tell
us what to call it."
So the Man told the rabbit that he could have just one peep. But when
the rabbit tried to get his peep by standing against the Woman's knees,
he wasn't tall enough, so the Man had to lift him till he lay all furry
against the little creature that was in the Woman's arms.
"I can't suggest anything," said the rabbit. "We ought to consult the
other animals. They all want to be friends; they're so curious. But
there's one thing I do know: we're both small and my coat would just fit
it."
Before they could stop him, he had pulled off his coat and was tucking
it snugly about the little stranger. He was right; it did fit exactly.
So the first garment of the earth's first baby was a rabbitskin, which
accounts for the rhyme which mothers sing about "Gone to fetch a
rabbitskin, to wrap the baby bunting in."
When the rabbit had presented his gift, he hopped down from the Woman's
lap very much thinner.
"And now can I bring the other animals?" he asked.
The Man hesitated. He was remembering the last visits of the lion and
the elephant and the rhinoceros. "They might find a name for it," the
rabbit pleaded.
Then the Man nodded and the rabbit scuttled off.
They hadn't long to wait before they heard a deep breathing and
grunting. Struggling up the frozen path to the cave came all the animals
that God had created. They advanced in single file, the great and the
small mixed up together; the giraffe followed by the hedgehog and the
mastodon preceded by the frog. They came hand-in-hand, forming a chain
to pull one another up, treading on each other's heels, jostling and
slipping back on one another. Those behind kept whispering to those in
front to hurry; those in front were too winded to retort. Their ascent
was made more difficult by their generosity, for all save one of them
carried presents. The one who came empty-handed was the stork. He led
the procession looking stately and pompous, as though he were taking the
credit for having occasioned the disturbance. The Man learnt later that
that was precisely what he was doing--taking all the credit. He had been
telling the animals that it was he who had left the strange little
creature at the Woman's side the night before. Because of this he
pretended that it wasn't necessary for him to bring a present. There
were many who believed him. There still are.
When they had all climbed safely to the top they gathered in a
semi-circle about the Woman, having piled their gifts before her. In
silence they waited; then she parted her hair and showed them the wonder
that nestled in her arms.
The Man, standing at her side, addressed them. "Oh, brothers, I am wise,
for I have walked with God; yet have I never seen anything like it.
There was nothing like it in Eden. I have sent for you that I may ask
you what to call it."
No one answered. He questioned each in turn, but none of them could
advise him.
"We have to find a name for it," he said crossly; "so let's sit down and
think hard."
So they sat down in the snow, scratching their heads, and thought hard.
From time to time the Man enquired whether any of them had had an
inspiration. They never had, which was discouraging when you consider
what a lot of them were thinking. In this way at least an hour must have
passed.
Things were getting both cold and embarrassing, when the little
creature, who was being thought about so hard, showed signs of waking
and began to stir in the Woman's arms. I ought to have told you that
ever since the Man's home-coming it had been sleeping. First it kicked
out with its bandy legs. Then it fisted its pudgy hands and yawned.
Then it puckered its wee red face in a manner most alarming and, to the
amazement of them all.... The Woman was so amazed that she nearly let
it drop. And yet what it did was perfectly natural; it opened its eyes,
like two blue patches of heaven, and blinked at them. Last of all it
emitted a thin, wailing sound that made everybody abominably unhappy.
The crocodile became so emotional that his tears froze in two long
icicles. After a pause the sound was repeated. All the animals rose on
their hind-legs and covered their ears with their paws.
The Woman stared at them apologetically. She was distressed and puzzled.
"Please don't cover your ears," she begged. "And don't think that I'm
hurting it. There's something that it's trying to tell us. It's said the
same thing before. It began saying it the moment I first found it. It's
gone on saying it, on and on.... There, there my little one, my
belovedest."
As if to corroborate her assertion that it had gone on and on, it
commenced to cry afresh. Out of politeness to the Woman, though the
sound hurt them, the tenderhearted animals uncovered their ears and
listened intently. This is what they heard, repeated over and over,
"Baa-aa-by! Baa-aa-by! Baa-aa-by!"
They were all shaking with sobbing when the elephant, in his coarsest
manner, lifted, up his trunk and snorted through it contemptuously.
"Stop snorting," the Man ordered impatiently. "There's no reason why you
should snort."
"Isn't there?" The elephant shuffled to his feet to depart. Before he
went, just to show his independence, again he snorted. Across his
shoulder he remarked. "And you think yourself so wise! You want to know
what to call it. Every time it speaks it tells you." It cried once more.
"There you are!" The elephant trumpeted triumphantly as he seated
himself at the top of the slide, having pulled his tail from under him
preparatory to tobogganning down the path. "Don't you hear what it says?
'Baa-aa-by! Baa-aa-by!' It couldn't be put more plainly. It's asking you
to call it baby."
As the elephant pushed off and vanished in a whirl of flying snow, the
Woman turned to the Man with a smile of gladness. "The clumsy fellow's
right. Weren't we the stupids? Fancy not understanding our own baby!"