“Do think of some name yourself, Mr. Gridley; I shall like anything that you like. To think of those dear babes having a fund—if that's the right name—on purpose for 'em, and a promise of a legacy, I hope they won't get that till they're a hundred year old!”
“What if we change Isosceles to Theodore, Mrs. Hopkins? That means the gift of God, and the child has been a gift from Heaven, rather than a burden.”
Mrs. Hopkins seized her apron, and held it to her eyes. She was weeping. “Theodore!” she said, “Theodore! My little brother's name, that I buried when I was only eleven year old. Drownded. The dearest little child that ever you see. I have got his little mug with Theodore on it now. Kep' o' purpose. Our little Sossy shall have it. Theodore P. Hopkins,—sha'n't it be, Mr. Gridley?”
“Well, if you say so; but why that P., Mrs. Hopkins? Theodore Parker, is it?”
“Doesn't P. stand for Pemberton, and isn't Father Pemberton the best man in the world—next to you, Mr. Gridley?”
“Well, well, Mrs. Hopkins, let it be so, if you are suited, I am. Now about Helminthia; there can't be any doubt about what we ought to call her,—surely the friend of orphans should be remembered in naming one of the objects of her charity.”
“Cynthia Badlam Fund Hopkins,” said the good woman triumphantly,—“is that what you mean?”
“Suppose we leave out one of the names,—four are too many. I think the general opinion will be that Hehninthia should unite the names of her two benefactresses,—Cynthia Badlam Hopkins.”
“Why, law! Mr. Gridley, is n't that nice?—Minthy and Cynthy,—there ain't but one letter of difference! Poor Cynthy would be pleased if she could know that one of our babes was to be called after her. She was dreadful fond of children.”
On one of the sweetest Sundays that ever made Oxbow Village lovely, the Rev. Dr. Eliphalet Pemberton was summoned to officiate at three most interesting ceremonies,—a wedding and two christenings, one of the latter a double one.