"I just wanted to tell you," I goes on, "that this guessin' contest closes at 3 A.M. , and if you want to make any more entries you got only forty minutes to get 'em in. Nighty-night."
And I rings off just as she begins sputterin' indignant.
That seems to help a lot, and inside of five minutes I'm snoozin' peaceful.
It was next mornin' at breakfast that Vee observes offhand, as though the subject hadn't been mentioned before:
"About naming the baby, now."
"Ye-e-es?" says I, smotherin' a groan.
"Why couldn't we call him after you?" she asks.
"Not—not Richard Junior?" says I.
"Well, after both of us, then," says she. "Richard Hemmingway. It—it is what I've wanted to name him all along."
"You have?" says I. "Well, for the love of——"