“Humph!” grunted Calderwell. “I saw Cyril last week, and he said he hadn't named the twins yet, but he didn't tell me why. I offered him two perfectly good names myself, but he didn't seem interested.”
“What were they?”
“Eldad and Bildad.”
“Hugh!” protested Billy.
“Well, why not?” bridled the man. “I'm sure those are new and unique, and really musical, too—'way ahead of your Franz and Felix.”
“But those aren't really names!”
“Indeed they are.”
“Where did you get them?”
“Off our family tree, though they're Bible names, Belle says. Perhaps you didn't know, but Sister Belle has been making the dirt fly quite lively of late around that family tree of ours, and she wrote me some of her discoveries. It seems two of the roots, or branches—say, are ancestors roots, or branches?—were called Eldad and Bildad. Now I thought those names were good enough to pass along, but, as I said before, Cyril wasn't interested.”
“I should say not,” laughed Billy. “But, honestly, Hugh, it's really serious. Marie wants them named something, but she doesn't say much to Cyril. Marie wouldn't really breathe, you know, if she thought Cyril disapproved of breathing. And in this case Cyril does not hesitate to declare that the boys shall name themselves.”