“That doesn’t matter, does it?” asked Phebe. “I suppose there are lots of boats called Slap-Dash, too.”
“Not near so many. Besides——”
“I don’t like either of those names much,” said Arnold apologetically. There was a discouraged silence then until Phebe observed:
“I don’t see why you don’t call it the Arnold. Arnold’s a pretty name——”
“Wow!” jeered Toby. “There’s one for you, Arn. A pretty name for a pretty boy, eh?”
Arnold threw a chip at him. “A fellow wouldn’t want to name a boat after himself,” he demurred.
“There was a man around here a couple of years ago,” said Toby, “who had a sloop he called the A. L. We used to say it stood for always last, but it was really just his initials. You might call yours the A. D.”
Arnold considered. “A. D.,” he murmured. “Say, that isn’t so bad, is it? It—it’s sort of short and—and neat, eh?”
“Yes, and you could call it Anno Domini for long,” laughed Toby.