Thyrza had a letter from Tom, which she read to the company, every now and then stopping to hum over some passage which for obviously pleasant reasons could not be read out loud.
“To think he’s never seen his baby,” she murmured, bending towards her crooked arm.
“To think of Tom ever having a baby to see,” said Mrs. Beatup—“and you’d know he wur Tom’s by his flat nose.”
“Wot have you settled to call him?” asked Ivy. “Is it still Thomas Edward?”
“No, it’s to be Thomas William, fur Bill Putland has promised to stand godfather.”
“I doan’t lik William as much as Edward. Wot maade you change, Thyrza?”
“Tom wants him called after his best pal, surelye.”
“And after the Kayser, too—William’s the Kayser’s naum.”
Thyrza looked shocked.