y; for, in the multitude of namesakes who have helped to
perpetuate that illustrious memory, poor Jim could reflect but an
infinitesimal share of credit or discredit.

Jim pondered. The advantages of the world-renowned historic cognomen
were, doubtless, great. But the "compliment" to his friends! could he
defraud them of that?

Suddenly his face lighted; a brilliant idea had struck him. He could
combine both.

"Miss Milly," he said, "I'll tell you. Now, I'll be named James
Rutherford Livin'stone Washin'ton, an' stick to that till I get inter
President polyticks; then I'll put the Livin'stone last, James
Rutherford Washin'ton Livin'stone, so folks'll be sure I belong to you.
Bill says folks can change their names, if they has a mind to, when
they come twenty-one. Bill's learned lots of law down to Wall Street,
Miss Milly; he's up in it, I can tell you."

"Very well, that will be best," said Milly, content to defer to the
doubtful future the risk of having the family names appear in
"President polyticks;" and so it was arranged, and her charge prepared
to face the world as James Washington.

CHAPTER VII.

TWO PEANUT-VENDERS.

Allie stood before the glorious wood fire, around which we were all
gathered awaiting the summons to dinner, gazing intently into its
glowing depths, and evidently sunk in such deep meditation as to be
oblivious, for the moment, of her surroundings, and of what she was
doing; for her doll, a new and much prized Christmas-gift from uncle
Rutherford, and a beauty, hung disregarded, head downwards, in the hand
which had sunk unconsciously by her side, while, with the forefinger of
the other pressed upon her rosy little lips, she seemed to be pondering
some weighty matter.

Daisy lay stretched with her doll upon the tiger-skin, and presently,
looking up, roused Allie from her distraction.

"Why, Allie," she exclaimed, "what you finking about so much? Serena
Victoria is most upside down. Just look at her!"

Allie reversed her doll to its proper position; and, as she settled its
costume, gave Daisy her answer, by putting into words the thought which
was vexing the minds of some of her elders, but addressed herself to
me, as a kindred spirit.

"Amy, do you b'lieve Mrs. Yorke will be very fit-to-be-seen to take out
walking or driving on the avenue, or in the park?"

"Why, Allie," I said, weakly evading the question, and also answering
by another, "do you not think your friend Mrs. Yor