“Who’s shouting now?”
“I’ll shout if I please. I veto John.”
“Oh, you do, do you! What am I—a rubber stamp?” Mrs. Bowser’s eyes were snapping. “Don’t try that he-man business on me, Bowser. First you try to legislate through your own slogan for the cleaning powder, and now you are trying to give my son a name like a patented stove polish. I say John. John! John!”
Her voice was shrill and his was not exactly suppressed.
“Do you realize,” he said, “that we are having our first quarrel?”
“I guess I have good reason to quarrel. I want to name the baby John. My mind’s made up.”
“No. Never. Not John.”
“Well, what do you want to call him?”
Mr. Bowser compressed his lips masterfully.
“Kinzo,” he said loudly.