Arthur wrote it on a slip of paper, which he handed Peterkin, who began slowly:
"L-e-le, b-a-t-bat; le-bat. Why, what in thunder! That ain't Lubber-toe. 'Taint nothin'!"
With an amused smile Arthur explained that the pronunciation of French words had very little to do with the way they were spelled; then, very carefully pronouncing the name several times, and making Peterkin repeat it after him, he said good-by, and walked away, thinking to himself:
"There are bigger lunatics outside the asylum than I am, but it is not possible the fool will adopt that name."
But the fool did. May Jane approved, and Billy did not care, provided his father would pronounce it right, and so in less than a week, "Le Bateau" was on Peterkin's door-plate, and on the two gate-posts of the entrance to his grounds, and May Jane's visiting cards bore the words:
"Mrs. Peterkin. Le Bateau. Fridays."
She had her days now, like Mrs. Atherton, and Mrs. St. Claire, and Mrs. Tracy, and had her butler, too, and her maid, and her carriage; and after the house was finished, and furnished in a style that reminded one of a theatre, it was so gorgeous and gay, Peterkin concluded to have a coat of arms for his carriage; and remembering how Arthur had helped him in a former dilemma he sought him again and told him his trouble.
"That Lubbertoo" (he called it too, now) "went down like hot cakes, and was just the thing," he said, "and now I want some picter for my carriage door to kinder mark me, and show who I am. You know what I mean."
Arthur thought a puff-ball would represent Peterkin better than any thing else, but he replied:
"Yes, I know. You want a coat of arms, which shall suggest your early days—"