Five tired and thoughtful men were going to bed a little later on in one of the huts.
“What shall we call her?” came from Randolph Fitts, as he threw one of his clay-covered shoes into the corner.
“There's only one name for her,” said Percival firmly, from the edge of his bunk. “We'll call her Doraine.”
“Good shot!” cried Peter Snipe. “I had two names in mind, but Doraine's got 'em both beat. It may not be as pretty as Angelica, but it's more appropriate. Mortimer was the other name I had in mind.”
“Yep,” was the smothered decision of Michael Malone. His shirt came off, and then he spoke more distinctly. “We can't do better than to name her after her birthplace. That's her name. Doraine Cruise. It sounds Irish. Got music in it. All Irish names have,—leaving out Michael and Patrick and Cornelius and others applied solely to the creatures who don't take after their blessed mothers and who grow up to be policemen and hod-carriers, with once in awhile a lawyer or labour-leader to glorify the saints they were named for, and—Yes, begorry, Doraine's her name.”
And so it was that, with an arbitrary quaintness, the babe was named without so much as a thought of consulting the mother. They assumed a proprietary interest in her, a sort of corporate ownership that had as its basis a genuine affection for and pride in Cruise's widow. It did not occur to one of them that she ought to have been considered in the matter of naming her own child; they went to sleep perfectly satisfied that when the question was put to a general vote on the morrow there wouldn't be a single dissenting voice against the name they had selected.
And Mrs. Cruise herself would be very grateful to them for the prompt assistance they had given her at a time when she was in no condition to be bothered with minor details!
CHAPTER IV.
The death of Betty Cruise occurred the second day after her baby was born. In a way, this lamentable occurrence solved a knotty problem and pacified two warring sexes, so to speak. For, be it known, the women of the Doraine took a most determined stand against the manner in which the men, viva voce, had arrogated unto themselves the right to name the baby. Not that any one of the women objected to the name they had given her; they were, in fact, pleased with it. But, they protested, this was a matter over which but one person had jurisdiction, and that person was Betty Cruise. If it was not a mother's privilege to name her own child,—especially in a case where the infant's father was in no position to decide the question for her, whether she consented or no, then all they could say was that things had come to a pretty pass.