fter I put it down I remembered a Lester I knew
once. He was a simp that wore pink neckties and used to write
love-letters to Mary Pickford."

"What about Earl?" she asks.

"Too flossy," says I. "Sounds like you was tryin' to let on he belonged
to the aristocracy."

"Well, Donald, then," says she. "That's a good, sensible name."

"But we ain't Scotch," I objects.

"What's the matter with Philip?" says Vee.

"I can never remember whether it has one _l_ and two _p_'s or the other
way round."

"But you haven't considered any of the common ones," goes on Vee, "such
as John or William or Thomas or James or Arthur."

"Because that would mean he'd be called Bill or Tom or Art," says I.
"Besides, I kind of thought he ought to have something out of the usual
run--one you wouldn't forget as soon as you heard it."

"If I may suggest," breaks in Auntie, "the custom of giving the eldest
son the family name of his mother is rather a good one. Had you
considered Hemmingway?"

I just gasps and glances at Vee. What if she should fall for anything
like that! Think of smotherin' a baby under most of the alphabet all at
one swoop! And imagine a boy strugglin' through schooldays and vacations
with all that tied to him.

Hemmingway! Why, he'd grow up round-shouldered and knock-kneed, and most
likely turn out to be a floor-walker in the white goods department, or
the manager of a gift-shop tearoom. Hemmingway!

Just the thought of it made me dizzy; and I begun breathin' easier when
I saw Vee shake her head.

"He's such a little fellow, Auntie," says she. "Wouldn't that be--well,
rather topheavy?"

Which disposes of Auntie. She admits maybe it would. But from then on,
as the news seems to spread that we was havin' a kind of deadlock with
the namin' process, the volunteers got busy. Old Leon Battou, our
butler-cook, hinted that his choice would be Emil.

"For six generations," says he, "Emil has been the name of the
first-born son in our family."

"That's stickin' to tradition," says I. "It sounds perfectly swell, too,
when you know how to pronounce it. But, you see, we're foundin' a new
dynasty."

Mr. Robert don't say so outright, but he suggests that Ellins Ballard
wouldn't be such a bad combination.

"True," he adds, "the governor and I deserve no such distinction; but
I'm sure we would both be immensely flattered. And there's no telling
how reckless we might be when it come to presenting christening cups and
that so