“Is that a girl's name?”
“No, it's a boy's name.”
“But mother wants a girl,” he said, very much shaken.
“Just like her presumption,” I replied testily. “It is to be a boy, David, and you can tell her I said so.”
He was in a deplorable but most unselfish state of mind. A boy would have suited him quite well, but he put self aside altogether and was pertinaciously solicitous that Mary should be given her fancy.
“Barbara,” he repeatedly implored me.
“Benjamin,” I replied firmly.
For long I was obdurate, but the time was summer, and at last I agreed to play him for it, a two-innings match. If he won it was to be a girl, and if I won it was to be a boy.