"Not yet, although I've been thinking about that very thing," Andrea answered meditatively; "no name seems good enough."
"I think 'bambino' would be nice," suggested Maria; "he's such a darling baby."
"Si, but he will soon be grown up" put in Andrea; "I was wondering how
Marco would do."
"Well, I don't say it wouldn't do," Paolo answered reflectively; "but it seems to me something like 'caro' or 'amato' [Footnote: Dear—beloved] might be appropriate for such a pet."
Andrea shook his head. And, after again racking his brain in an effort to suggest a really appropriate name, the old man finally slapped his hand on his side:
"It just comes to me this instant, something I heard one of those touristas call a little curly dog by. At the time it occurred to me that it sounded more like a name for a pigeon."
"What was it?" Andrea inquired eagerly.
"Chico," Paolo answered, lingering on the first syllable, exactly as the tourista had done—"Chee-ko."
Andrea was charmed, agreeing that there was something about it that seemed to suit a saucy pigeon, and, vastly pleased, he repeated over and over, "Chico, Chico," while Maria echoed softly "Chee-ko."