He wants to wait till the twins are eighteen, and then make each of them a birthday present of the name of their own choosing." "Well, if that isn't the limit!" laughed Calderwell.

"I'd heard some such thing before, but I hadn't supposed it was really so." "Well, it is.

He says he knows more tomboys and enormous fat women named 'Grace' and 'Lily,' and sweet little mouse-like ladies staggering along under a sonorous 'Jerusha Theodosia' or 'Zenobia Jane'; and that if he should name the boys 'Franz' and 'Felix' after Schubert and Mendelssohn as Marie wants to, they'd as likely as not turn out to be men who hated the sound of music and doted on stocks and dry goods." "Humph!" grunted Calderwell.

"I saw Cyril last week, and he said he hadn't named the twins yet, but he didn't tell me why.

I offered him two perfectly good names myself, but he didn't seem interested." "What were they ?" "Eldad and Bildad." "Hugh!" protested Billy.
"Well, why not ?" bridled the man.