those men had--or have--the right to give a name
to Betty Cruise's baby? I don't believe it, Madame Obosky."

"In the first place, can you blame Mr. Percivail for taking the
matter out of the mother's hands? Mothers are very, oh, so very stupid
sometime, you know. For example, my dear Miss Clinton, you have but to
see what Mr. Percivail's mother did to him when he was an infant. She
called him Algernon Adonis,--and why? Because she thought he was the
most wonderful child in all the world,--and because she was silly. I can
almost hear her arguing now with the father, poor man. One day I asked
Algernon Adonis what name his father called him by,--I was so sure he
would not call him Algernon. He said that up to the day his father
died he called him Bud. That's a toy's name, you see. I am in favour of
children being named by outsiders, disinterested outsiders,--a committee
or something,--men preferably. I think this child should be called
Doraine. Betty Cruise she do not care what she call it now that it is
not possible to call it Jimmy Percivail or Percivail Jimmy. Has it occur
to you that if it had been a boy, all these men would have insisted on
Jimmy, without the Percivail?"

"I like the name Doraine,--we all do. What we resent is Mr. Percival's
presumption in--"

"Let me tell you one more thing. Do not permit Mr. Percivail to address
your indignation meeting tonight, for if you do, and he smiles zat
nice, good-humoured smile and tells the ladies zat he is sorry to have
displease them, and zat he is to blame entirely for the blunder,--poof!
Zat will be the end!"

"I am not so sure of that," said Ruth. "There are some very determined
women among us, Madame Obosky." A faint line appeared between her eyes,
however,--a line acknowledging doubt and uncertainty. "And you will not
join us in the protest?"

"No," said Olga, shaking her head. "I am content to let the men have
their way in small things, Miss Clinton. It makes zem--them so
much easier to manage when it comes to the big things. I speak from
experience. Once let a man think he is monarch of all he surveys and he
becomes the most humble of subjects. As I have said before, we may all
be here for a long, long time. No one can tell. So, I say, we must pat
our men on the back and tell zem what great, wise, strong fellows they
are,--and how good and gallant too. Then they will fight for us like the
lion, and zey--they will work for us like the ass and the oxen, becau