now, and as _he_ had no objection, being very
easy-going, poor man, I gave her the name."

"Yes?" interrogated Mrs. Bertram, in a softly surprised, and but
slightly interested voice; "you called your daughter Beatrice? I don't
quite understand your remark about the name fitting all round."

Mrs. Meadowsweet raised one dimpled hand slowly and laid it on top of
the other. Her smile grew broader.

"A name is a solemn thing, Mrs. Bertram," she continued. "A name is, so
to speak, to fit the person to whom it is given, for life. Will you tell
me how any mother, even the shrewdest, is to prophecy how an infant of a
few weeks old is to turn out? I thought over that point a good deal when
I gave the name, and said I to myself however matters turn 'Beatrice'
will fit. If she grows up cozy and soft and petting and small, why she's
Bee, and if she's sharp and saucy, and a bit too independent, as many
lasses are in these days, what can suit her better than Trixie? And
again if she's inclined to be stately, and to hold herself erect, and to
think a little more of herself than her mother ever did--only not more
than she deserves--bless her--why then she's Beatrice in full. Oh! and
there you are, Beatrice! Mrs. Bertram has been good enough to call to
see me. Mrs. Bertram, this is my daughter Beatrice."

A very tall girl came quietly into the room, bowed an acknowledgment of
her mother's introduction, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She was
a dignified girl from the crown of her head to her finger-tips, and Mrs.
Bertram, who had been listening languidly to the mother, favored the
newcomer with a bright, quick, inquisitive stare, then rose to her
feet.

"I am afraid I must say good-bye, Mrs. Meadowsweet. I am glad to have
made your daughter's acquaintance, and another day I hope I shall see
more of her. I have of course heard of you from Catherine, my dear," she
added, holding out her hand frankly to the young girl.

"Yes. Is Catherine well?" asked Beatrice, in a sweet high-bred voice.

"She is well, my dear. Good-bye, Mrs. Meadowsweet. I quite understand
the all-roundness and suitability of your choice in the matter of
names."

Then the great lady sailed out of the room, and Beatrice flew to the
window, placed herself behind the curtain and watched her down the
street.

"What were you saying about me, mother?" she asked, when Mrs. Bertram
had turned the corner.

"I was only telling about your name, my dearie girl. _He_