The mother's face twitched as she noted the kiss, and her eyes softened

a little.

"He is very good," she said, as if she were speaking to herself rather

than to Celia. "He is never any trouble; he is very healthy."

"He looks like a strong little cherub," said Celia, touching, with a

forefinger as light as a feather, the dimple on the child's chin; "and,

of course, he isn't any trouble. And you wouldn't think he was, if he

were, would you? What is his name?"

Susie turned away to set a vase straight.

"He hasn't any name," she said, not suddenly, but in a dull, toneless

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voice. "He hasn't been christened yet."

"Oh, but you must have him christened," said Celia, speaking lightly, to

conceal the embarrassment of the subject. "Haven't you decided on a name

for him yet?"

Susie shook her head. "What does it matter?" she asked, in a whisper.

Celia fought the growing embarrassment womanfully.

"Oh, I think it matters a great deal," she responded, in the same light

tone. "If I had a beautiful boy like this, I should like him to have a

nice name--a manly name. But, of course, you've thought of one?"

Susie shook her head again.

"No? Will you think me very--well, cheeky--if I suggest some? Now, let

me see! He is fair, isn't he? Some names are appropriate to fair men,

while others are more suitable to dark ones, don't you think so?"

She laughed; but there was no smile in Susie's eyes, as she turned and

looked, moodily, at the baby, one of whose chubby hands was clasping

Celia's finger.

"Let's think of some names," said Celia. "James! I don't like that, do

you? Richard; no, that's a dark name. Percy; how would that do?"

It was almost impossible for the pale face to grow paler, and yet, for a

moment, as the blue eyes fixed themselves on Celia, Susie's pallor

increased. Her arms went out as if she were about to take the child; but

Celia looking up, smiled beseechingly.

"Oh, let me have him a little longer," she pleaded. "You have him all

the time, you know. Let me see, what was the last name--Percy! Do you

like it?"

With an effort, Susie said, slowly, and in almost a whisper: "My--my father's name was Gerald:--will--will that do?"

"Oh, the very thing!" cried Celia, earnestly. "Gerald. Of course, you

will call him after his grandfather. Do decide on that, Mrs.--Morton,"

she added, with a sudden nervousness.




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