"Now, at the very beginning, I must make a treaty with you. Are you coming here often?"
"I hope so."
"Then, unless I am to hate you on the spot, you must not call me Miss Brace. I detest the name! If there is one name above another that I hate, it is that name Brace! It is so common, so mean—a wretched monosyllable!"
"But you would grace any name!" cried Earle.
"I don't mean to grace that very long!" exclaimed Doris.
Earle opened his eyes in uncontrollable amazement.
"You don't know what it is to suffer from a wretched, short, commonplace name. Look at me, and consider that I am called, above all things, Doris Brace! Horrors! Now, your name is fairly good. Earle Moray. There is a savor of gentility, of blood, of breeding, about that. You can venture to rise with such a name. I can only rise by dropping mine, and that I mean to do."
Earle laughed. This was, after all, the pretty, captious nonsense of a little child.
"But Doris is a sweet name. It fits this sweet, home-like landscape. Doris, the lovely shepherdess, has been sung and painted for centuries."
"But I have no genius for woods or fields, and I am afraid of sheep. However, Miss Doris is better than—Miss Brace."