The faces of the other children were so full of genuine dismay that Adrienne laughed outright.
"Grand'mère used to call me Reine," she said, "that's a little shorter, isn't it?"
"Yes, but," said Murtagh, doubtfully, "'Rain!' It's not pretty, or anything. You're not a bit rainy-looking."
"Pitter, patter! Drip, drop, dropsy!" exclaimed Bobbo, his blue eyes lighting up impudently.
"Hush, Bobbo, be quiet; you're behaving very rudely," said Rosie, with a little anxious glance at Adrienne. "We can't call you by any of those names," she added in her pleasantest voice; "they are not pretty enough."
"Would you mind saying your name again, please," said Murtagh, looking puzzled; "the first one, I mean, that we'll have to call you by."
Adrienne repeated it slowly once or twice, and the children said it after her. But they didn't seem satisfied with their own pronunciation.
"It will never be the same as yours," exclaimed Bobbo, after two ineffectual attempts. "I'll call you Topsy; it's much easier!"
"I'll tell you what," said Winnie, who had been silently finishing her piece of bread. "Suppose we call her Nessa, after poor Nessa that died." They hesitated, and a grave silence fell for a moment on the little group. Adrienne regretted that she had been the means of saddening them.
"Who was Nessa?" she asked at length, gently.