"The name that pleases you will please me," she declared. "What shall it be, my husband?"
"Why not the name of my most faithful friend? Why not call him Bartley Hodge Merriwell?"
"If that satisfies you, he shall be called by that name."
Somehow Frank fancied he detected a touch of disappointment in her voice.
"But you, sweetheart—haven't you a suggestion to make?"
"If you would like me to make one."
"You know I would, Inza."
"Then let Hodge be his middle name. Let's call him Frank Hodge Merriwell. The initials are the same as your own. Bart will be pleased, and to me the baby will be little Frank."
"Fine!" laughed Merry, in great satisfaction. "That is settled. That shall be his name. Hello, there, Frank Merriwell, the younger! I'll make an athlete of you, you rascal! I'll give you such advantages to start with as I never had myself."
"No matter what you give him, no matter what you do for him," murmured the happy mother, "he can never become a better or nobler man than his father."