SIR MORTIMER THE SECOND

Catherine Nicolette
Our friend across the road was going away for the weekend and his mom declined to take his pet chameleon with them.
  She argued - quite reasonably I thought - that as we spent so much time playing with the chameleon at her house, we Whittle children should babysit Sir Mortimer for the weekend.
  "It'll only be two days," she told her son. "You can collect him on Monday."
  So David called around and dropped Morty off at our place. I made sure to organise a time when Mom was not at home.
  She tended to raise a dust about reptiles coming into the house. Over my few years I had learned that what the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over.
  I explained to the Lord that my brother and I were doing a simple act of charity; helping one of His little creatures.
  I was also being charitable to Mom; her response to the insect and reptile kingdoms [screech, jump on chair, 'Get that OUT' ] made it imperative to shield her from the livestock that roamed our house.

  I kept a rigorous tally at all times of any crickets, silkworms or reptiles within the walls.
  Any lapse in judgement would result in my nerves being severely shaken at the maternal screeches.
  Besides of which, I am fierce fond of Mom; I did not like to upset her unduly.
  And there was no need to worry her about Morty at all.

Reptilian secrecy
  I swore the kids to secrecy. For two days they were willing to look the other way.
  They drove a hard bargain; a liberal bribe of liquorice allsorts, jelly beans and two Wilsons toffees each.
  After Morty's arrival in Casa Whittle, we spent a most satisfactory half hour with him in the garden. 
  Clamped on my arm, he gently turned green next to the rosebushes. 

  Then my brother suggested we try to position Morty half in front of the leaves, half in front of the brown branch.
  The theory was that Morty's front half would stay green, while his back half would turn brown.
  Morty was enjoying himself, his miraculous eyes closing in bliss as the soft sun shimmered down.
  After a while his color changed; he appeared somewhat piebald, but in amber and olive. 
 
Siesta time
  Eventually it was time to go indoors before we tired the poor pet out. Besides, Mom was on the way home, and we didn't want to have her on the war path.
  As we neared the Dutch kitchen door, we bumped into our Sotho nanny.
  She wailed as she saw  Morty flick out his long tongue and catch a fly.  
  It took some persuading, but eventually she promised not to tell Mom; as long as she did not have to see Morty again.

  After an uneventful weekend, David was due to collect Mort at half past seven in the morning. 
  As we waited next to the kitchen door, for some reason Mort took a liking to the yellow apron hanging on the door hook.
 As we watched in awe, he clung to the cotton and slowly changed color.
Awaiting our applause, he was not disappointed; we were congratulating him when to our dismay Mom swept into the kitchen. "What are you kids still doing here? Get along to school, the pair of you," she directed.
 
  My brother and I were riveted in horror as Mom turned and looked at the apron. 
  At that moment, Morty mercifully closed his eyes. And so it happened that Mom looked directly at Sir Mortimer the Second, ochre hued against her apron - and didn't see him.

  Just then David knocked at the door. With agonized eye rolling I indicated to David where Morty was.
  Well used to Mom, he neatly extricated the sunflower lizard.
  Morty was thrilled to see his bonded friend, and crawled up his grey school jumper to nestle under his chin.

Stand not upon the order of your going
  Never had children scuttled as fast out the door as we did.
"Well!" Mom exclaimed in perplexity, "Children! I'll never understand them. First I can't get you to go to school, then you all jam the door to get out!"
  Slightly guilty and deeply relieved, we made good our escape out the front gate.

And thus it was that Sir Mortimer the Second returned home after enjoying his sojourn at ours . . .