hel. I had an uncomfortable idea,
however, that my name had been discussed and vetoed, by either Flossy or
Bronson. But this time the baby is named Ruth, and I found that it was all
Flossy's doing.

I was irritated without knowing why. I didn't want anybody to know it
though, and so I was vexed when Bronson said to me, "I couldn't help it,
Ruth." There was no use in pretending not to understand. I could with some
men, but not with Bronson. He is too magnificently honest himself, and
uplifts me by expecting me to be equally so. Nevertheless I failed him in
one particular, for I answered him in my loftiest manner, "I am not at all
displeased. It is a great compliment, I am sure."

There is nothing so uncivil at times as to be cuttingly polite. What I
said wasn't so at all. But a woman is obliged to defend herself from a man
who reads her like an open book.

Flossy does not like children, and poor little Rachel never has had a life
of roses. Flossy says children are such a care and require so much
attention.

"Rachel was all that I could attend to, and here all winter I have had
another one on my hands to keep me at home, and make me lose sleep, and
grow old before my time. I don't see why such burdens have to be put upon
people. Children are too thick in this world any way."

She fretted on in this strain for some time, until Bronson looked up and
said,

"Don't, Flossy. You don't mean what you say. Do tell her the little thing
is welcome."

"I do mean what I say," answered Flossy.

Then, as Bronson left the room abruptly, Flossy said,

"And I was determined to name her after you. Bronson didn't want me to. He
said you wouldn't thank me for it, but I told him that Rachel Percival was
quite delighted with her namesake."

I hid my indignantly smarting eyes in the folds of the baby's dress, as I
held her up before my face, and made her laugh at the flowers in my hat.
Flossy thought I was not listening to her with sufficient interest; so she
got up and crossed the room with that little stumble of hers, which used
to be so taking with the men when she was a girl, and took Ruth away from
me.

There was a great contrast between the two children. Rachel Herrick is a
shy child, with a delicate, refined face, lighted by wonderful gray eyes
like Bronson's. I do not understand her. She seems afraid of me, and I
confess I am equally afraid of her. Even Rachel Percival does not get on
with her very well, although she has b