"Sweet fifteen, perhaps."
"That would do. Yes,—Herbert, Robert," said I, musingly, "and Philip, and Arthur, and Algernon, Alfred, Sidney, Howard, Rupert"——
"Oh, don't, Del! You are foolish, now."
"How, Laura?" said I, consciously.
"Why don't you say America?"
"Oh, what a fall!"
"Enough better than your fine Lieutenant, Del, with his taste, and his sentiments, and his fine bows, and 'his infinite deal of nothing.'"
I sighed and said nothing. The name-fancies had gone by in long procession. America had buried them all, and stamped sternly on their graves.
"What made you ask about Darley's 'Margaret,' Laura?"
"Oh,—only I wanted to see it."