position in which she belonged. I had put
off doing it too long, and advantage might be taken of the present
juncture of affairs to strengthen her claim to supremacy, and it really
wouldn't do to delay much longer.

"I think he looks just like Charlie," said Bessie to Miss Van, the first
time the latter called after the great event.

"Well, I don't know," was the reply. "It seems to me he has his papa's
dark eyes, but I can't see any other resemblance."

"Oh, I do!" Bessie replied with spirit. "Why, it is just his forehead
and mouth, and his hair will be just the same beautiful brown when he
grows up."

The old lady was looking on reproachfully, and finally said, "Bessie, my
dear, that child looks precisely like your own family. George at his age
was just such an infant; you couldn't tell them apart."

George entered the room at that moment, and with his boisterous laugh
said, "You don't mean to say that I was ever such a little, soft,
ridiculous lump of humanity as that, do you?"

"As like as two peas," was the reply of his mother.

For my part I kept out of the discussion, for I must confess I could see
no resemblance between the precious baby and any other mortal creature,
except another baby of the same age. I thought they looked pretty much
all alike, and was not prepared to deny that it was the exact
counterpart of anybody at that particular stage of development.

"I tell you what, Bess," said George, after the debate had fully
subsided, "you must name that little chap for me."

"Oh, no," replied the proud mother, "that is all settled; his name is
Charlie."

Nothing had been said on the subject before, and I was a little startled
at Bessie's positive manner, for I thought even this matter would not be
free from her mother's dictation. The old lady seemed surprised and
vexed. "George is a much better name, I think," she said very quietly,
keeping down her vexation, "but I thought perhaps you might remember
your dear father in this matter. His name, you know, was Benjamin."

"Yes, I know," said Bessie, very firmly, "but I think there is one with
a still higher claim, and the child's name is Charles."

"Good for you, little girl!" I thought, but I said nothing. Within me I
felt a gleeful satisfaction at Bessie's spirit, which showed that if it
ever came to a sharp contest with her mother, nothing could keep her
from holding her own place by her husband's side. All my misgivings
about her possible estran