"

"But those aren't really names!"

"Indeed they are."

"Where did you get them?"

"Off our family tree, though they're Bible names, Belle says. Perhaps
you didn't know, but Sister Belle has been making the dirt fly quite
lively of late around that family tree of ours, and she wrote me some
of her discoveries. It seems two of the roots, or branches--say, are
ancestors roots, or branches?--were called Eldad and Bildad. Now I
thought those names were good enough to pass along, but, as I said
before, Cyril wasn't interested."

"I should say not," laughed Billy. "But, honestly, Hugh, it's really
serious. Marie wants them named _something_, but she doesn't say much
to Cyril. Marie wouldn't really breathe, you know, if she thought Cyril
disapproved of breathing. And in this case Cyril does not hesitate to
declare that the boys shall name themselves."

"What a situation!" laughed Calderwell.

"Isn't it? But, do you know, I can sympathize with it, in a way, for
I've always mourned so over _my_ name. 'Billy' was always such a trial
to me! Poor Uncle William wasn't the only one that prepared guns and
fishing rods to entertain the expected boy. I don't know, though, I'm
afraid if I'd been allowed to select my name I should have been a 'Helen
Clarabella' all my days, for that was the name I gave all my dolls, with
'first,' 'second,' 'third,' and so on, added to them for distinction.
Evidently I thought that 'Helen Clarabella' was the most feminine
appellation possible, and the most foreign to the despised 'Billy.' So
you see I can sympathize with Cyril to a certain extent."

"But they must call the little chaps _something_, now," argued Hugh.

Billy gave a sudden merry laugh.

"They do," she gurgled, "and that's the funniest part of it. Oh, Cyril
doesn't. He always calls them impersonally 'they' or 'it.' He doesn't
see much of them anyway, now, I understand. Marie was horrified when she
realized how the nurses had been using his den as a nursery annex and
she changed all that instanter, when she took charge of things again.
The twins stay in the nursery now, I'm told. But about the names--the
nurses, it seems, have got into the way of calling them 'Dot' and
'Dimple.' One has a dimple in his cheek, and the other is a little
smaller of the two. Marie is no end distressed, particularly as she
finds that she herself calls them that; and she says the idea of boys
being 'Dot' and 'Dimple'!"

"I should say so," laughed Cald