“Perhaps he can,” suggested Mabel softly.
“Why, Mab! what do you mean?” cried Georgia, her face flushing.
“I only meant that many people think they are allowed to know what is happening on earth,” explained Mabel, with some hesitation. Georgia laid her head upon the pillow again with a little moan of disappointment.
“You will talk as if Dick was dead!” she said. “I thought you had heard something—that he was here, perhaps.”
“Oh, Georgie!” cried Mabel, in strong remonstrance. Then, remembering that exciting topics ought to be avoided, she changed the subject. “What do you mean to call the boy? Have you decided?”
“St George Keeling,” was the unhesitating reply. “Dick has always said that if he had a son he would name him after my father.”
“Then you won’t call him after Dick? Oh, Georgie!”
Georgia smiled triumphantly. “Oh yes, I shall insist upon that. If Dick chooses two names, I’m sure I have a right to choose one. Richard St George Keeling North—it’s rather long, isn’t it? but Dick won’t mind.”
“Then I suppose,” said Mabel, feeling her way timorously, “that you are not thinking of having him christened just yet? Mr Hardy was asking me whether you would like it to be soon, as things are so uncertain.”
“Before his father comes back? Certainly not,” said Georgia, with so much decision that Mabel dared make no further protest. She attacked Dr Tighe, however, upon the subject when she saw him next.