"'E says," he remarked, looking at Peter and Stephen, "that 'e would like
to roll me upon the floor--like that ball there--"
"Well, let him," said Peter laughing.
The baby then dug his fingers into Mr. Zanti's hair and pulled down his
head towards the chair, intense satisfaction flooding his face as he did
so.
The baby seemed, for a moment, to whisper into Mr. Zanti's ear, then,
chuckling it climbed down from the chair, and, on all fours, crawled, its
eyes and mouth suddenly serious as though it were conscious that it was
engaged upon a very desperate adventure. The three men watched it. Across
the absolute silence of the room there came the sound of the rain driving
upon the pane, of the tumbling chatter of the fire, of the baby's hands
falling upon the carpet.
Mr. Zanti was suddenly upon his knees. "Here," he cried, seizing the blue
ball. He rolled it to young Stephen. It was caught, dropped and then the
fat fingers had flung themselves upon Mr. Zanti's coat. He let himself go
and was pulled back sprawling upon the floor, his huge body stretching from
end to end of the rug.
Then, almost before they had realised it, the other two men were down upon
their knees. The ball was picked up and tossed from hand to hand, the baby,
sitting upon Mr. Zanti's stomach, watched with delight these extraordinary
events.
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