ldren
themselves would kick when they grew up. There was our family, for one.
Grandpa Greenfield named the most of us, and see what a job he made of
it. He went to the Bible for us, too."

The minister's lips twitched, but Peace was so very serious that he
dared not laugh; so, after an apologetic cough behind his hand, he
suggested politely, "Then suppose we arrange it this way,--if the first
names you select don't suit, we will tell you so, and you can pick out
some others."

"O, don't I have to think them up today? I s'posed you would want 'em
right away. Grandpa named us the first time he looked at us, Gail says."

"Well, we needn't be in such a big hurry as that, girlie. It took us a
month to decide what we should call our boy, and if you want that long a
time, take it."

"I don't think I shall," she replied, viewing her unusual and unexpected
privilege with serious eyes. "Not being a mother or a father, I don't
expect it will take me more'n a few days to find very pretty names."
Then, as if struck by an important thought, she asked, "But how will you
_Christian_ them, s'posing I don't hit on some likely names before a
month is up?"

"Christian them!"

"Yes. Like they did Tommy Finnegan's baby brother. He was only seven
days old, but he had to have a name before the priest could Christian
him."

"Oh!" Mr. Strong was enlightened. "There is no set time in our church
for christening babies, dear. We call it baptizing in our church, and
sometimes parents don't have their children baptized until they are old
enough to understand for themselves what it means."

"Then you won't be having the twins chris--baptizzened for some time
yet!"

"No, probably not until Children's Day--"

"Why, that's already gone by! There won't be another until next summer!"

"Next June. But that is usually the time we perform that ceremony in
our church, although any other time is just as good."

"Well, I'll have your children named by that time,--don't you fret.
Allee, won't you bring me 'Hill's Evangel' from the Library? I 'member
that has strings of names in it."

"'Hill's Manual,'" corrected the preacher, picking up his hat and
preparing to depart.

"Is it? St. John says it is 'Hill's Emanuel,'" she called after the
fleeing sister. "It's a big dirty-red book and you will find it in the
furthest corner of the bookcase on the next to the lowest shelf. Why,
St. John, must you hustle away so soon? You've hardly got here yet.
P