A successful man, with a quiet and comfortable home, well enough looked after by an agreeable wife, exceeding good to look at and interested only in her home and her husband—­what more could a man ask?

* * * * *

What more could a man ask?  Only one thing more—­a baby.  The months soon passed and that rounding out of the home side of his life was consummated with no mishap.  The baby was a girl, which contented him and delighted Dorothy.  He wished it to be named after her, she preferred his sister’s name—­Ursula.  It was Ursula who decided the question.  “She looks like you, Fred,” she declared, after an earnest scanning of the weird little face.  “Why not call her Frederica?”

Norman thought this clumsy, but Dorothy instantly assented—­and the baby was duly christened Frederica.

Perhaps it was because he was having less pressing business in town, but whatever the reason, he began to stay at home more—­surprisingly more.  And, being at home, he naturally fell into the habit of fussing with the baby, he having the temperament that compels a man to be always at something, and the baby being convenient and in the nature of a curiosity.  Ursula, who was stopping in the house, did not try to conceal her amazement at this extraordinary development of her brother’s character.

Said she:  “I never before knew you to take the slightest interest in a child.”

Said he:  “I never before saw a child worth taking the slightest interest in.”

“Oh, well,” said Ursula, “it won’t last.  You’ll soon grow tired of your plaything.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Norman.  “I hope you’re wrong.”  He reflected, added:  “In fact, I’m almost certain you’re wrong.  I’m too selfish to let myself lose such a pleasure.  If you had observed my life closely, you’d have discovered that I have never given up a single thing I found a source of pleasure.  That is good sense.  That is why the superior sort of men and women retain something of the boy and the girl all their lives.  I still like a lot of the games I played as a boy.  For some years I’ve had no chance to indulge in them.  I’ll be glad when Rica is old enough to give me the chance again.”

She was much amused.  “Who’d have suspected that you were a born father!”

“Not I, for one,” confessed he.  “We never know what there is in us until circumstances bring it out.”

“A devoted father and a doting husband,” pursued Ursula.  “I must say I rather sympathize with you as a doting husband.  Of course, I, a woman, can’t see her as you do.  I can’t imagine a man—­especially a man of your sort—­going stark mad about a mere woman.  But, as women go, I’ll admit she is a good specimen.  Not the marvel of intelligence and complex character you imagine, but still a good specimen.  And physically—­” She laughed—­“That’s what caught you.  That’s what holds you—­and will hold you as long as it lasts.”