he moon.
Clear as bells sounded the slow breakers on Trewinnard beach, and in the
tall room a white moth circled round the candle-flame interminably. A
rat squeaked in the wall.

"Fancy," said Jenny to May, who sat in the shadow by the foot of the
bed. "I thought I shouldn't like nursing a baby, but I think it's
glorious."

A curlew cried through the October night and was answered far down the
valley.

"I wish mother could have seen my baby," sighed Jenny. "It's my birthday
next week. Funny if we'd both been born the same day."

The candle spat with the moth's death, then burned with renewed
brightness.

"Time the rogue went to sleep," said May authoritatively.

"Feel his hands," said Jenny. "They're like velvet bows."

"They are lovely and soft, aren't they?" May agreed.

"Won't the girls talk when they hear about my baby?"

"Rather," said May reassuringly.

"I expect they'll wonder if he's like me."

Remote winds muttered over the hill-side, and the curlews set up a
chorus of chattering.

"Night's lovely with a baby," said Jenny, and very soon fell asleep.

Chapter XLII: _Shaded Sunlight_

The naming of the boy caused considerable discussion in Bochyn. Indeed,
at one stage of the argument a battle seemed imminent. Jenny herself
went outright for Eric.

"Never heard no such a name in all my life," affirmed Trewhella.

"You must have been about a lot," said Jenny sarcastically.

"I think Eric's nice," urged May, in support of her sister's choice.

"I never heard the name spoken so far as I do remember," Mr. Champion
put in, "but that's nothing against it as a name. As a name I do like it
very well. To be sure 'tis a bit after Hayrick, but again that's nothing
against a farmer's son."

"I don't like the name at all," said old Mrs. Trewhella. "To me it do
sound a loose sort of a name."

"Oh, 'tis no name at all," Zachary decided. "How do 'ee like it, my
dear?" he asked, turning to Jenny.

"I don't know why I like it," she answered, "but I do."

"There's a grand old name down Church," said Granfa meditatively. "A
grand, old, rolling, cut-a-piece-off-and-come-again sort of a name, but
darn 'ee if I can remember it. Ess I can now. Athanacious! Now that's a
name as will make your Jack or your Tom look very hungry. That's a name,
that is!"

Impressive as sounded Granfa's trumpeting of it, everybody felt that
nowadays such a mouthful would hamper rather than benefit the owner. As
for Jenny