"Margaret"

"'Altogether,' says Colonel Hugonin, 'they strike me as being the
most ungodly menagerie ever gotten together under one roof since Noah
landed on Ararat'"

"Then, for no apparent reason, Margaret flushed, and Billy ... thought
it vastly becoming"

"Billy Woods"

"Billy unfolded it slowly, with a puzzled look growing in his
countenance"

"'My lady,' he asked, very softly, 'haven't you any good news for me
on this wonderful morning?'"

"Miss Hugonin pouted. 'You needn't, be such a grandfather,' she
suggested helpfully."

"Regarded them with alert eyes"

THE EAGLE'S SHADOW

I

This is the story of Margaret Hugonin and of the Eagle. And with your
permission, we will for the present defer all consideration of the
bird, and devote our unqualified attention to Margaret.

I have always esteemed Margaret the obvious, sensible, most
appropriate name that can be bestowed upon a girl-child, for it is a
name that fits a woman--any woman--as neatly as her proper size in
gloves.

Yes, the first point I wish to make is that a woman-child, once
baptised Margaret, is thereby insured of a suitable name. Be she grave
or gay in after-life, wanton or pious or sullen, comely or otherwise,
there will be no possible chance of incongruity; whether she develop a
taste for winter-gardens or the higher mathematics, whether she take
to golf or clinging organdies, the event is provided for. One has only
to consider for a moment, and if among a choice of Madge, Marjorie,
Meta, Maggie, Margherita, Peggy, and Gretchen, and countless
others--if among all these he cannot find a name that suits her to a
T--why, then, the case is indeed desperate and he may permissibly
fall back upon Madam or--if the cat jump propitiously, and at his own
peril--on Darling or Sweetheart.

The second proof that this name must be the best of all possible names
is that Margaret Hugonin bore it. And so the murder is out. You may
suspect what you choose. I warn you in advance that I have no part
whatever in her story; and if my admiration for her given name appear
somewhat excessive, I can only protest that in this dissentient world
every one has a right to his own taste. I knew Margaret. I admired
her. And if in some unguarded moment I may have carried my admiration
to the point of indiscretion, her husband most assuredly knows all
about it, by this, and he and I are still the best of friends. So you
perceive that if I ever did so far fo