NAMING THE NEW BABY
Luke Shepard was a very friendly person who was bound to make himself
beloved by the entire Corner House family. Unless, perhaps, Aunt Sarah
Maltby refused to melt before the sunshine of his smile. He was a
handsome fellow, too--curly brown hair, a good brown and red complexion,
well chiseled features, brown eyes set wide apart, and lips that laughed
above a well molded and firm-looking chin.
Cecile was his antithesis--sprightly and small-framed, roguish of look
and behavior, without an iota of hoidenishness about her. She was
inordinately fond of her brother, and she could not understand how the
Corner House girls had managed to get on so many years without one boy,
at least, in the family.
"Of course, you've got Neale," she said to Ruth and Agnes after they had
reached the house.
"And there's Sammy Pinkney," Tess put in gravely. "I'm sure he's quite
as much trouble to us as a real brother could be."
At this there was a burst of uncontrollable laughter.
The little girls were fond of Luke Shepard, however. He had been very
nice to them on that adventurous occasion when they had met him and his
sister on the automobile tour; and on coming to the old Corner House for
this visit he had not forgotten Tess and Dot. To the former he had
brought a lovely, imaginative, beautifully bound story book, "full of
gods and gondolas," Dot said with awe.
To Dot herself he most tactfully presented a doll. Not a doll to take
the place in any way of the beloved Alice-doll. No. Luke was too wise a
youth for that. But it was a new baby nevertheless that Dot was bound to
be proud of.
"Oh," cried Tess, "a boy baby, Dot! And you never had a real boy baby
before!"
"Or such a nice looking one, at any rate," Agnes suggested.
Dot, smiling "big," clasped the manly looking little manikin in its neat
sailor suit and cap. She really was too pleased for speech for a minute
or two. Then she said:
"I'm real glad you came to see us, Mr. Luke. I was glad before. Now I'm
glad _twice_."
"You can't beat that kid," said Neale admiringly.
But the arrival of the new doll-baby put upon the smaller Corner House
girls--especially upon Dot--a duty that was always taken seriously. The
naming of either new dolls or new pets usually needed the heedful
attention of the entire Corner House family.
The children of Sandyface, and her grandchildren, were usually an
enormous care upon the little girls in this way. To name so many cats,
and name them appropriately, had been in the past a matter of no little
moment.
Now that Sandyface had found four more eyeless, mewing little mites,
only the coming of the sailor-baby, as Dot called Luke Shepard's
present, made the two little girls agree to Neale's suggestion regarding
the naming of the new kittens.
They were christened briefly and succinctly: "One, Two, Three and Four."
"For we really are too busy, and company in the house, too," said Tess
earnestly, "to worry over Sandyface's new family. She _might_ have
waited until some other time to find those kittens."
On that first evening of the Shepards' visit there was much ado about
the name for the baby. The whole family took more or less interest in
it, and suggestions galore were showered upon the anxious young mother
regarding the sailor-baby.
Neale suggested that a ballot-box be arranged and that everybody write
his suggestions upon slips of paper and deposit them in the box. Then
Dot might be allowed to put in her hand, mix up the slips, and draw one.
That name must be the sailor-baby's cognomen.
But there was too great a hazard in this to attract the smallest Corner
House girl; for Aunt Sarah had already gravely suggested Zerubbabel.
"And suppose," Dot whispered, "she should write that on a paper (do you
s'pose such an ugly name can be spelled!) and I should draw that out
first thing! Why, a name like that would--would make an invalid of the
poor child all his life!"
Therefore when, on Tuesday, the Corner House girls and their guests went
for a ride in the automobile, the momentous decision regarding the new
baby's name was still to be made.
There was no room for Sammy in the car on this occasion, and he was left
behind to seek his own amusement with the aerial tramway. And as matters
turned out he certainly was busy with that arrangement before the
automobile party returned.
However, even Tess forgot all things aerial in the enjoyment of the
ride. The car ran smoothly, the day was fine, and not even a "cluck hen"
crossed their path. So there was not the smallest thing to mar their
pleasure.
Luke rode in front with Neale; and the three older girls were so much
interested in their own chatter that they scarcely thought of Tess and
Dot. But they, too, were exceedingly busy with their particular affairs.
What interested them most of all through the drive was the naming of the
sailor-baby. Dot sat with the Alice-doll in her arms, of course; but the
new doll was hugged up very close to her side upon the seat.
"He is really a very pretty doll for a boy doll," Tess observed. "You
really should have a very pretty name for him."
"I know," agreed the anxious mother. "But all the nice names seem to
have been used up. Wha--what do you think of 'Brandywine,' Tessie?"
"Goodness! The name of that avenue we just passed? Why, Dot!" ejaculated
the horrified older sister. "That's a _nawful_ name! And we're
temp'rance."
"Yes. It is kind of liquorish, I s'pose," admitted Dot. "But it sounds
different. Tom, and Edgar, and Wilfred, and Feodor, and St. John, and
Clarence, and Montmorency, and Peter, and Henry, and Vanscombe, and
Michael, and all those others, have been used over and over again in
naming babies," Dot said with seriousness. "You know we've heard of
somebody, or know somebody, named by all of those names. Oh, Tess!" she
ejaculated suddenly, "look there!"
The automobile party were just passing Mr. Stout's big tobacco barn. One
leaf of the main door was open and hooked back and Dot was pointing
eagerly to some large black letters painted upon the inside of this
door.
"What a pretty name that is!" she whispered to Tess, excitedly.
"'Nosmo'! Did you ever hear of it before?"
"No-o, Dottie, I never did," her sister agreed slowly. "'Nosmo' sounds
kind of funny, doesn't it? I--I never heard of a boy called that."
"Well, Tess Kenway!" cried her little sister indignantly, "isn't that
just what we want? A boy's name that hasn't ever been used on a boy
before?"
"That's so, Dottie," agreed the more cautious Tess. "That _is_ so. No
boy has had it and spoiled it by being bad." Tess' opinion of the genus
boy was governed largely by the attitude Ruth seemed to hold toward all
boyhood.
"It's brand new," declared Dot, christening the sailor-baby on the spot,
and without bell, book, or candle. "Nosmo Kenway. Isn't that nice? He's
so cute, too!" and she seized the new doll and pressed her red lips to
the sailor-boy's highly flushed cheek.
"Nosmo Kenway," murmured Tess. "Oughtn't he to have a middle name?"
"Oh, well," said Dot. "We can give him that afterward--if we find a good
one. But middle names don't really count, after all."
The merry party of automobilists ran out as far as Mr. Bob
Buckham's--the strawberry man, as they called him--a very good friend of
theirs. Mrs. Buckham was confined to her chair and the Corner House
girls always took her flowers or something nice when they called at the
farm-house.
The Kenways and Neale went in to see the invalid for a minute, leaving
Cecile and Luke Shepard alone in the car. The keen-eyed girl suddenly
leaned forward and tapped her brother on the arm.
"Hul-lo!" he said, waking from a day-dream.
"Penny for your thoughts, Luke?" she suggested.
"Worth more than that, Sis."
"I know. They were about Ruth Kenway," and Cecile laughed, although her
eyes were anxious.
"Witch!" exclaimed Luke, flushing a little.
"Beware, young man!" his sister said, shaking an admonitory finger.
"Beware of the dog?" queried Luke with a smile.
"Just so, Boy. There is a dog. A big one in the path."
"Why, Sis, I don't believe Ruth Kenway has ever even _thought_ of a
boy--"
"As you are thinking of her?" his sister broke in softly. "No. I think
she is perfectly 'heart whole and fancy free.' And so ought you to be,
Luke."
"Well, she's such a sweet girl," he declared, his eyes shining.
"She certainly is."
"Then what have you against my--my liking her?"
"There is nothing I'd like better in this world, Luke," his sister
declared earnestly, "than to see you happy in the friendship of such a
girl as Ruth."
"Then--"
"Remember Neighbor," Cecile said, earnestly.
"Oh, bother Neighbor!" muttered Luke.
"No. You would not like to see him bothered. And he is a very good
friend of yours. He can and will help you get a start in the world after
you have finished at college. His aid may mean ten years' advantage to
you."
"Do you suppose I care what Neighbor does with his money?" demanded
Luke, hotly.
"No. Not for just what the money would bring you," she agreed. "But
think! What have you to offer Ruth Kenway if you should come to the
point where you might ask her to engage herself to you? We're just as
poor as Job's turkey after it was picked to the bones!"
"I know it, Sis," groaned the young fellow.
"And without Neighbor's help you may have a long and hard struggle
getting anywhere," Cecile said gravely.
"Too true, Sis."
"Well--then--"
The Kenways and Neale O'Neil reappeared. The visiting brother fell
silent. Luke Shepard scarcely had a word to say during the remainder of
the automobile ride.