"Let me have him for a moment," begged Celia, who, young as she was, comprehended the girl's feelings. "How sweet he looks!" she exclaimed, as she took the child and kissed it.
The mother's face twitched as she noted the kiss, and her eyes softened a little.
"He is very good," she said, as if she were speaking to herself rather than to Celia. "He is never any trouble; he is very healthy."
"He looks like a strong little cherub," said Celia, touching, with a forefinger as light as a feather, the dimple on the child's chin; "and, of course, he isn't any trouble. And you wouldn't think he was, if he were, would you? What is his name?"
Susie turned away to set a vase straight.
"He hasn't any name," she said, not suddenly, but in a dull, toneless voice. "He hasn't been christened yet."
"Oh, but you must have him christened," said Celia, speaking lightly, to conceal the embarrassment of the subject. "Haven't you decided on a name for him yet?"
Susie shook her head. "What does it matter?" she asked, in a whisper.
Celia fought the growing embarrassment womanfully.
"Oh, I think it matters a great deal," she responded, in the same light tone. "If I had a beautiful boy like this, I should like him to have a nice name—a manly name. But, of course, you've thought of one?"