"It's her kid." "Well, there you are," he rejoined persuasively.
"But how do we know she won't be tickled to death with our name?
She'd ought to be.

It's purtier than any name I can think of," argued Jack Wales, a sailor.

"When she's well enough, we'll tell her the kid's name is Doraine, and--" "She won't hold back a second, boss, when she finds out that you picked it for her," broke in another.

"Only a couple o' days ago she was sayin' to one of the other women in my hearin' that if it was a boy she was goin' to call him Percival,--and she didn't know what on earth she'd do if it was a girl.

Said she'd probably have to call it after her mother and she didn't like her mother's name a little bit." "I know, but after all, we did butt in a trifle too soon with our--" "For God's sake, don't let any of these here women hear you talk like that, boss," groaned Jack Wales.