As I enter the club smoking-room you are to conceive Davidvanishing into nothingness, and that it is any day six years agoat two in the afternoon. I ring for coffee, cigarette, andcherry brandy, and take my chair by the window, just as theabsurd little nursery governess comes tripping into the street. I always feel that I have rung for her.

While I am lifting the coffee-pot cautiously lest the lid fallinto the cup, she is crossing to the post-office; as I select theone suitable lump of sugar she is taking six last looks at theletter; with the aid of William I light my cigarette, and now sheis re-reading the delicious address. I lie back in my chair, andby this time she has dropped the letter down the slit. I toywith my liqueur, and she is listening to hear whether the postalauthorities have come for her letter. I scowl at a fellow-memberwho has had the impudence to enter the smoking-room, and her twolittle charges are pulling her away from the post-office. When Ilook out at the window again she is gone, but I shall ring forher to-morrow at two sharp.

She must have passed the window many times before I noticed her.I know not where she lives, though I suppose it to be hard by.She is taking the little boy and girl, who bully her, to the St.James's Park, as their hoops tell me, and she ought to lookcrushed and faded. No doubt her mistress overworks her. It mustenrage the other servants to see her deporting herself as if shewere quite the lady.

I noticed that she had sometimes other letters to post, but thatthe posting of the one only was a process. They shot down theslit, plebeians all, but it followed pompously like royalty. Ihave even seen her blow a kiss after it.

Then there was her ring, of which she was as conscious as if itrather than she was what came gaily down the street. She felt itthrough her glove to make sure that it was still there. She tookoff the glove and raised the ring to her lips, though I doubt notit was the cheapest trinket. She viewed it from afar bystretching out her hand; she stooped to see how it looked nearthe ground; she considered its effect on the right of her and onthe left of her and through one eye at a time. Even when you sawthat she had made up her mind to think hard of something else,the little silly would take another look.

I give anyone three chances to guess why Mary was so happy.

No and no and no. The reason was simply this, that a lout of ayoung man loved her. And so, instead of crying because she wasthe merest nobody, she must, forsooth, sail jauntily down PallMall, very trim as to her tackle and ticketed with theinsufferable air of an engaged woman. At first her complacencydisturbed me, but gradually it became part of my life at twoo'clock with the coffee, the cigarette, and the liqueur. Nowcomes the tragedy.

Thursday is her great day. She has from two to three everyThursday for her very own; just think of it: this girl, who isprobably paid several pounds a year, gets a whole hour to herselfonce a week. And what does she with it? Attend classes formaking her a more accomplished person? Not she. This is whatshe does: sets sail for Pall Mall, wearing all her pretty things,including the blue feathers, and with such a sparkle ofexpectation on her face that I stir my coffee quite fiercely. Onordinary days she at least tries to look demure, but on aThursday she has had the assurance to use the glass door of theclub as a mirror in which to see how she likes her engagingtrifle of a figure to-day.

In the meantime a long-legged oaf is waiting for her outside thepost-office, where they meet every Thursday, a fellow who alwayswears the same suit of clothes, but has a face that must evermake him free of the company of gentlemen. He is one of yourlean, clean Englishmen, who strip so well, and I fear me he ishandsome; I say fear, for your handsome men have always annoyedme, and had I lived in the duelling days I swear I would havecalled every one of them out. He seems to be quite unaware thathe is a pretty fellow, but Lord, how obviously Mary knows it. Iconclude that he belongs to the artistic classes, he is so easilyelated and depressed; and because he carries his left thumbcuriously, as if it were feeling for the hole of a palette, Ihave entered his name among the painters. I find pleasure indeciding that they are shocking bad pictures, for obviously noone buys them. I feel sure Mary says they are splendid, she isthat sort of woman. Hence the rapture with which he greets her. Her first effect upon him is to make him shout with laughter. Helaughs suddenly haw from an eager exulting face, then haw again,and then, when you are thanking heaven that it is at last over,comes a final haw, louder than the others. I take them to beroars of joy because Mary is his, and they have a ring of youthabout them that is hard to bear. I could forgive him everythingsave his youth, but it is so aggressive that I have sometimes toorder William testily to close the window.

How much more deceitful than her lover is the little nurserygoverness. The moment she comes into sight she looks at thepost- office and sees him. Then she looks straight before her,and now she is observed, and he rushes across to her in a glory,and she starts--positively starts--as if he had taken her bysurprise. Observe her hand rising suddenly to her wicked littleheart. This is the moment when I stir my coffee violently. Hegazes down at her in such rapture that he is in everybody's way,and as she takes his arm she gives it a little squeeze, and thenaway they strut, Mary doing nine-tenths of the talking. I fallto wondering what they will look like when they grow up.

What a ludicrous difference do these two nobodies make to eachother. You can see that they are to be married when he hastwopence.

Thus I have not an atom of sympathy with this girl, to whomLondon is famous only as the residence of a young man whomistakes her for someone else, but her happiness had become partof my repast at two P.M., and when one day she walked down PallMall without gradually posting a letter I was most indignant. Itwas as if William had disobeyed orders. Her two charges were assurprised as I, and pointed questioningly to the slit, at whichshe shook her head. She put her finger to her eyes, exactly likea sad baby, and so passed from the street.

Next day the same thing happened, and I was so furious that I bitthrough my cigarette. Thursday came, when I prayed that theremight be an end of this annoyance, but no, neither of themappeared on that acquainted ground. Had they changed their post-office? No, for her eyes were red every day, and heavy was herfoolish little heart. Love had put out his lights, and thelittle nursery governess walked in darkness.

I felt I could complain to the committee.

Oh, you selfish young zany of a man, after all you have said toher, won't you make it up and let me return to my coffee? Nothe.

Little nursery governess, I appeal to you. Annoying girl, bejoyous as of old during the five minutes of the day when you areanything to me, and for the rest of the time, so far as I amconcerned, you may be as wretched as you list. Show somecourage. I assure you he must be a very bad painter; only theother day I saw him looking longingly into the window of a cheapItalian restaurant, and in the end he had to crush down hisaspirations with two penny scones.

You can do better than that. Come, Mary.

All in vain. She wants to be loved; can't do without love frommorning till night; never knew how little a woman needs till shelost that little. They are all like this.

Zounds, madam, if you are resolved to be a drooping little figuretill you die, you might at least do it in another street.

Not only does she maliciously depress me by walking past onordinary days, but I have discovered that every Thursday from twoto three she stands afar off, gazing hopelessly at the romanticpost-office where she and he shall meet no more. In these windydays she is like a homeless leaf blown about by passers-by.

There is nothing I can do except thunder at William.

At last she accomplished her unworthy ambition. It was a wetThursday, and from the window where I was writing letters I sawthe forlorn soul taking up her position at the top of the street:in a blast of fury I rose with the one letter I had completed,meaning to write the others in my chambers. She had driven mefrom the club.

I had turned out of Pall Mall into a side street, when whomshould I strike against but her false swain! It was my fault,but I hit out at him savagely, as I always do when I run intoanyone in the street. Then I looked at him. He was hollow-eyed;he was muddy; there was not a haw left in him. I never saw amore abject young man; he had not even the spirit to resent thetesty stab I had given him with my umbrella. But this is theimportant thing: he was glaring wistfully at the post-office andthus in a twink I saw that he still adored my little governess. Whatever had been their quarrel he was as anxious to make it upas she, and perhaps he had been here every Thursday while she wasround the corner in Pall Mall, each watching the post-office foran apparition. But from where they hovered neither could see theother.

I think what I did was quite clever. I dropped my letter unseenat his feet, and sauntered back to the club. Of course, agentleman who finds a letter on the pavement feels bound to postit, and I presumed that he would naturally go to the nearestoffice.

With my hat on I strolled to the smoking-room window, and wasjust in time to see him posting my letter across the way. Then Ilooked for the little nursery governess. I saw her as woe-begoneas ever; then, suddenly--oh, you poor little soul, and has itreally been as bad as that!

She was crying outright, and he was holding both her hands. Itwas a disgraceful exhibition. The young painter would evidentlyexplode if he could not make use of his arms. She must die ifshe could not lay her head upon his breast. I must admit that herose to the occasion; he hailed a hansom.

"William," said I gaily, "coffee, cigarette, and cherry brandy."

As I sat there watching that old play David plucked my sleeve toask what I was looking at so deedily; and when I told him he raneagerly to the window, but he reached it just too late to see thelady who was to become his mother. What I told him of herdoings, however, interested him greatly; and he intimated rathershyly that he was acquainted with the man who said,"Haw-haw-haw." On the other hand, he irritated me by betrayingan idiotic interest in the two children, whom he seemed to regardas the hero and heroine of the story. What were their names? How old were they? Had they both hoops? Were they iron hoops, orjust wooden hoops? Who gave them their hoops?

"You don't seem to understand, my boy," I said tartly, "that hadI not dropped that letter, there would never have been a littleboy called David A----." But instead of being appalled by this heasked, sparkling, whether I meant that he would still be a birdflying about in the Kensington Gardens.

David knows that all children in our part of London were oncebirds in the Kensington Gardens; and that the reason there arebars on nursery windows and a tall fender by the fire is becausevery little people sometimes forget that they have no longerwings, and try to fly away through the window or up the chimney.

Children in the bird stage are difficult to catch. David knowsthat many people have none, and his delight on a summer afternoonis to go with me to some spot in the Gardens where theseunfortunates may be seen trying to catch one with small pieces ofcake.

That the birds know what would happen if they were caught, andare even a little undecided about which is the better life, isobvious to every student of them. Thus, if you leave your emptyperambulator under the trees and watch from a distance, you willsee the birds boarding it and hopping about from pillow toblanket in a twitter of excitement; they are trying to find outhow babyhood would suit them.

Quite the prettiest sight in the Gardens is when the babies strayfrom the tree where the nurse is sitting and are seen feeding thebirds, not a grownup near them. It is first a bit to me and thena bit to you, and all the time such a jabbering and laughing fromboth sides of the railing. They are comparing notes andinquiring for old friends, and so on; but what they say I cannotdetermine, for when I approach they all fly away.

The first time I ever saw David was on the sward behind theBaby's Walk. He was a missel-thrush, attracted thither that hotday by a hose which lay on the ground sending forth a gay trickleof water, and David was on his back in the water, kicking up hislegs. He used to enjoy being told of this, having forgotten allabout it, and gradually it all came back to him, with a number ofother incidents that had escaped my memory, though I rememberthat he was eventually caught by the leg with a long string and acunning arrangement of twigs near the Round Pond. He never tiresof this story, but I notice that it is now he who tells it to merather than I to him, and when we come to the string he rubs hislittle leg as if it still smarted.

So when David saw his chance of being a missel-thrush again hecalled out to me quickly: "Don't drop the letter!" and there weretree-tops in his eyes.

"Think of your mother," I said severely.

He said he would often fly in to see her. The first thing hewould do would be to hug her. No, he would alight on the water-jug first, and have a drink.

"Tell her, father," he said with horrid heartlessness, "always tohave plenty of water in it, 'cos if I had to lean down too far Imight fall in and be drownded."

"Am I not to drop the letter, David? Think of your poor motherwithout her boy!"

It affected him, but he bore up. When she was asleep, he said,he would hop on to the frilly things of her night-gown and peckat her mouth.

"And then she would wake up, David, and find that she had only abird instead of a boy."

This shock to Mary was more than he could endure. "You can dropit," he said with a sigh. So I dropped the letter, as I think Ihave already mentioned; and that is how it all began.