“No, our name, the name of the Community, Perfection City. Do you like it?”
“I don’t think I do,” replied she.
“Jes’ so,” broke in Uncle David, apparently much pleased with this answer. “I knew you wouldn’t. Nobody does.”
“Why did you call it such a name—such a horrid name—and if nobody likes it, what is the use?”
“There now, that’s what they all say, until I talk to ’em,” said Uncle David. “You see I gave the name to the place.”
“Oh, it was your choice!” said Olive.
“When we came here, Niece and I, there wasn’t no town nor nothing, it was just open prairie. Ezry he come along too with us, and the Carpenters, and Mrs. Ruby, and the Wrights.”
“You leave out Madame Morozoff-Smith,” interrupted Olive.
“I thought you knew. Why, Madame, she’s Niece. She ain’t my real niece, she wasn’t born in my family, but she’s niece by adoption, and I hold she’s more to me than half the nieces I ever seen. I ain’t cute like most of the folks here, an’ there wasn’t no use in having me at Perfection City. I can’t do nothing. I can’t compose papers like Brother Wright. So I was studyin’ to see some way for me to come with ’em. It would ha’ broke my heart to be left behind. Madame, she come to me, an’ says she: ‘You’ll be my uncle. I want an uncle very much, and I’ll love you dearly.’ An’ so I was. I call it the greatest honour of my life when Madame made me her uncle, and added my name to hers.” Uncle David stooped and patted Diana’s head thoughtfully.
“When did you think of the name?” said Olive with a view to bringing him back to the point.