Throughout the journey Philip maintained his connection with the baby, though keeping it at a distance, as the sun holds the earth and swings it round it, but never allows the earth to approach it too closely. And as the moon revolves about the earth, so did the Swiss nurse dance attendance on Philip the Little, rotating also, of course, about Philip the Great.
On board the steamer, on the lake, Philip saw a gentleman in light suit, with helmet cap, surrounded by a puggaree, who attached himself to several groups of tourists, and showed them his blackened watch, or discoursed on the great evangelist of Italy, Signor Count Caprili; or on his scheme for rearing Mount St. Bernard dogs. He at once recognised the man, and he caught the fellow’s eye on him; but Beaple Yeo made no attempt to renew acquaintance till Philip was in a carriage to make the ascent from Amsteg by the Devil’s Bridge to Andermatt, when he jumped into the same vehicle, and held out his hand with a boisterous jollity.
’How d’ye do—do, Pennycomequick? Delighted to see you. Will find my daughter right and flourishing at the Hôtel Impérial. Of course, you go there. I was nearly killed at all of the others. Look at my silver watch-case—turned black with sulphuretted hydrogen. But, of course, you go where Sal is. Good girl! excellent girl! You made a first-rate choice when you took her, and you have my blessing. Mercy on me, that is my grandchild, I presume. To think of it—I a grandfather! If you will do me a favour, my boy, you will say nothing about our relationship. I don’t want to be looked upon as a grandpa. Bless me! at my time of life a grandpa! I’ll share the carriage with you—pay a third—no a quarter, as you are three, self, nurse, and baby.’
Philip became stiff and cold. He would not take the hand offered him, nor say a word to the man who had so unceremoniously entered his carriage. Beaple Yeo, alias Schofield, was by no means disconcerted.
’You will take my card,’ he said. Then, when he saw that Philip would not do so: ’But no, I will introduce you myself, dear son-in-law, to the proprietor. Now do look at this zig-zag road. I remember seeing a marionette theatre when I was a child, and this scene was represented. A number of little carriages came running down the zig-zag one after another—and here it is—the same exactly. It is worth your looking. One, two, three—upon my word there are five carriages; and see how the horses tear along and swing round the corners. It is worth looking at.’