“I d’know,” said the boy, laughing. “Jack?”
“No, no,” said the doctor thoughtfully, while Helen looked on rather amused at her father’s intent manner, and the quick bird-like movements of their visitor.
For the boy, after watching the doctor for a few moments, grew tired, and finding himself unnoticed, dropped down on the carpet, took four pebbles from his pocket, laid them on the back of his right hand, and throwing them in the air, caught them separately by as many rapid snatches in the air.
“Do that again,” cried the doctor, suddenly becoming interested.
The boy showed his white teeth, threw the stones in the air, and caught them again with the greatest ease.
“That’s it, Helen, my dear,” cried the doctor triumphantly. “Cleverness of the right hand—dexterity. Capital name.”
“Capital name, papa?”
“Yes; Dexter! Good Latin sound. Fresh and uncommon. Dexter—Dex. Look here, sir. No more Obed. You shall be called Dexter.”
“All right,” said the boy.
“And if you behave yourself well, perhaps we shall shorten it into Dex.”