Henry is in the War Office, where he takes a hand in the Direction of
Military Aeronautics. To meet him you might almost think that Military
Aeronautics was a one-man show. He has, at any rate in the eyes of the
layman, an encyclopædic knowledge of aircraft and all appertaining
thereto. When he is out for a walk on Sunday with his wife and
daughter, and a British aeroplane passes over them with the usual
fascinating roar, Henry is very superior. Mummy (who is of coarse
clay) and Betty (aged 11/2, and coarser still) are frankly excited
every time.
"Look at the pretty airship!" says Mummy.
"Oo-ah!" says Betty.
"B. E. 4 X.," snaps Henry, without looking at it.
* * * * *
Or rather this is what Henry used to do; but now things are different.
It was Betty who, so to speak, brought him down to earth again.
He had great ambitions for Betty, whom he fondly believed to be
possessed of intelligence above the lot of woman, and he always
laboured prodigiously to advance her education. Betty took to it
philosophically, however, and refused to be hurried; and Henry almost
despaired of getting her beyond two syllables. The "Common Objects
of the Farmyard" were rapidly assimilated, and all the world of
mechanical traction was comprehended in the generic "puff-puff." But
Henry wouldn't be satisfied with this very creditable repertoire. "Out
of respect for her father, if for no other reason," he would insist,
"she _must_ learn to say 'aeroplane.'"
"How ridiculous!" said Mummy, who always called them "airships," to
annoy Henry; "and anyhow it's no use going on at her; she never will
say things to order. If you'll only leave her alone for a bit she'll
probably say it, and then your sordid ambition will be gratified."
But Henry cared for none of these things, and when Sunday came, and
with it Sunday's promenade and Sunday's aeroplane, he went at it as
hard as ever.
"Say 'air-ye-play,'" he commanded, as the pram was brought to a
standstill and the droning monster passed overhead.
Betty gazed raptly at the entrancing thing. Then suddenly she raised a
fat hand and pointed. "Oo-ah!" she said, "puff-puff-dicky!"
* * * * *
And nowadays Henry's omniscience is decently obscured under a
capacious bushel. If you meet an aeroplane when you are walking with
him and ask humbly for his verdict thereon, in the expectation of an
explosion of clipped technical jargon, he will stop and study its
outline with great attention, and will eventually inform you, to your
respectful mystification, that it is a "P.-P.-D." Thereafter he will
chuckle most unofficially.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Lady_. "WELL, MRS. GUBBINS, WHAT IS THE WEATHER GOING
TO BE TO-DAY?"
_Charwoman_. "OH, I DON'T KNOW, MUM. I'M NOT MUCH OF A WEATHERCOCK."]
* * * * *