k of it," said Reggie.

"Then we shall have to be very careful what word we choose," said Mrs.
Atherley.

"What is your favourite word?"

"Well, really----"

"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?" asked Archie.

"This is quite impossible. Every word by itself seems so silly."

"Not 'home' and 'mother,'" I said reproachfully.

"You shall recite your little piece in the drawing-room afterwards,"
said Miss Atherley to me. "Think of something sensible now."

"Yes," said Mrs. Atherley. "What's the latest word from London?"

"Kikuyu."

"What?"

"I can't say it again," I protested.

"If you can't even say it twice, it's no good for Evangeline."

A thoughtful silence fell upon us.

"Have you fixed on a name for her yet?" Miss Atherley asked her mother.

"Evangeline, of course."

"No, I mean a name for her to call _you_. Because if she's going to call
you 'Auntie' or 'Darling,' or whatever you decide on, you'd better start
by teaching her that."

And then I had a brilliant idea.

"I've got the very word," I said. "It's 'hallo.' You see, it's a
pleasant form of greeting to any stranger, and it will go perfectly with
the next word that she's taught, whatever it may be."

"Supposing it's 'wardrobe,'" suggested Reggie, "or 'sardine'?"

"Why not? 'Hallo, Sardine' is the perfect title for a _revue_. Witty,
subtle, neat--probably the great brain of the Revue King has already
evolved it, and is planning the opening scene."

"Yes, 'hallo' isn't at all bad," said Mr. Atherley. "Anyway, it's better
than 'Poor Polly,' which is simply morbid. Let's fix on 'hallo.'"

"Good," said Mrs. Atherley.

Evangeline said nothing, being asleep under her blanket.

. . . . .

I was down first next morning, having forgotten to wind up my watch
overnight. Longing for company, I took the blanket off Evangeline's cage
and introduced her to the world again. She stirred sleepily, opened her
eyes and blinked at me.

"Hallo, Evangeline," I said.

She made no reply.

Suddenly a splendid scheme occurred to me. I would teach Evangeline her
word now. How it would surprise the others when they came down and said
"Hallo" to her, to find themselves promptly answered back!

"Evangeline," I said, "listen. Hallo, hallo, hallo, hallo." I stopped a
moment and went on more slowly. "Hallo--hallo--hallo."

It was dull work.

"Hallo," I said, "hallo--hallo--hallo," and then very distinctly,
"Hal-_lo_."

Evangeli