He made no answer. At that moment he was gazing at a tiny white hand that rested on the arm of her chair, gazing hungrily at it, and thinking how he would like for a single second to touch it, to stroke it, to press it to his lips. The hand must have felt the influence of his gaze, for it began to move about in a restless, uneasy manner, and ended by hiding itself among the folds of her garment in her lap. Elias sighed, as it disappeared; and then, with no obvious relevancy, remarked, “This is the first snow of the year.”
“Yes,” she assented; “and now Christmas will be here pretty soon, and then my birthday. Do you know, Mr. Bacharach, it's very unfortunate to have your birthday come right after Christmas? Because, of course, you can't expect to get presents so soon again. I want my father to change my birthday to July—make believe I was born on the third of July, instead of the third of January. That would have a double advantage. It would make me six months younger.”
“But if I should do that,” argued the old man, “I should have to apply to the legislature to have your name changed, too. We named you Christine, on account of your being born so near Christmas. If we shift your birthday over to July, we'll have to call ye Julia.”
“Oh, then I'd rather have you leave things as they are. I should hate to be called Julia. Do you like Julia, Mr. Bacharach?”
“Not nearly so well as Christine.”—It was delightful—so intimate, so confidential—thus to be allowed to speak her name in her presence.—“Christine,” lingering upon the word, “Christine is the prettiest name I know.”
“Your name,”—shyly—“your name is Elias, isn't it?” she asked.
“Yes, Elias. There have never been any names but three among the men of my family—Ephraim, Abraham, and Elias. My father's name was Abraham, his father's Elias, and so on back. The younger son, when there has been one, has always been called Ephraim. Old-fashioned, Bible names, you see.”
“I had a second-cousin named Ephraim,” old Redwood volunteered.
Christine said, “I'm glad they didn't name you Ephraim or Abraham. But I like Elias.”
“Do you, indeed? Most people find it exceedingly ugly. When I was a boy, it used to make me quite unhappy. My playmates used to tease me about it.”