If it was not a mother's privilege to name her own child,--especially in a case where the infant's father was in no position to decide the question for her, whether she consented or no, then all they could say was that things had come to a pretty pass.
At any rate, they were going to see to it that the baby was not named by a mob! Ruth Clinton went straight to Percival.
"I hear you have named the baby, Mr.Percival," she said, prefacing her remark by a curt "good morning." It was the first time she had spoken to him in many days.

Their ways not only lay apart but she had made a point of avoiding him.

She stopped him this morning as he was passing the hut in which she and her aunt were to live with two of the American nurses.
The three young women had spent several days in the making and putting up of some very unusual and attractive window curtains and portieres; painting the stones that framed the fireplace, the crude window-casings and door jamb; and in draping certain corner recesses which were to achieve dignity as clothes closets.

They were scrubbing the floor when Percival passed on his way to the "office." His "office," by the way, was a rude "lean-to" at the extreme outer end of the street.

It was characteristic of him to establish headquarters at a point farthest removed from the approach to the camp from the ship.
Fitts was perhaps the only person who sensed the real motive back of this selection.