ielded her the child, that smelt of babies. But it had
such blue, wide, china blue eyes, and it laughed so oddly, with
such a taking grimace, Ursula loved it. She cooed and talked to
it. It was such an odd, exciting child.

"What's your name?" the man suddenly asked of her.

"My name is Ursula--Ursula Brangwen," she replied.

"Ursula!" he exclaimed, dumbfounded.

"There was a Saint Ursula. It's a very old name," she added
hastily, in justification.

"Hey, mother!" he called.

There was no answer.

"Pem!" he called, "can't y'hear?"

"What?" came the short answer.

"What about 'Ursula'?" he grinned.

"What about what?" came the answer, and the woman
appeared in the doorway, ready for combat.

"Ursula--it's the lass's name there," he said,
gently.

The woman looked the young girl up and down. Evidently she
was attracted by her slim, graceful, new beauty, her effect of
white elegance, and her tender way of holding the child.

"Why, how do you write it?" the mother asked, awkward now she
was touched. Ursula spelled out her name. The man looked at the
woman. A bright, confused flush came over the mother's face, a
sort of luminous shyness.

"It's not a common name, is it!" she exclaimed,
excited as by an adventure.

"Are you goin' to have it then?" he asked.

"I'd rather have it than Annabel," she said, decisively.

"An' I'd rather have it than Gladys Em'ler," he replied.

There was a silence, Ursula looked up.

"Will you really call her Ursula?" she asked.

"Ursula Ruth," replied the man, laughing vainly, as pleased
as if he had found something.

It was now Ursula's turn to be confused.

"It does sound awfully nice," she said. "I must give
her something. And I haven't got anything at all."

She stood in her white dress, wondering, down there in the
barge. The lean man sitting near to her watched her as if she
were a strange being, as if she lit up his face. His eyes smiled
on her, boldly, and yet with exceeding admiration
underneath.

"Could I give her my necklace?" she said.

It was the little necklace made of pieces of amethyst and
topaz and pearl and crystal, strung at intervals on a little
golden chain, which her Uncle Tom had given her. She was very
fond of it. She looked at it lovingly, when she had taken it
from her neck.

"Is it valuable?" the man asked her, curiously.

"I think so," she replied.

"The stones and pearl are real; it is worth three or four
pounds," said Skrebens