"Well, it does not matter much for the present. You say my mother was Miss Lascelles, and my father was Canon Lascelles; but if my mother was your daughter her name would have been Weevil." "So it was, my dear," he cried, with a new inspiration, "at least it would have been if--if--I mean, darling, my name is really Lascelles, only I changed it to Weevil when I lost my fortune." "Why ever couldn't you have told me all this before? How is it that Canon Lascelles had the same name as you? Was he a relation?" "Yes, darling, first cousin," he faltered, wondering if the story resembled that which he had told to Mr. Bellamie. "So my name is really Lascelles?" "Titania Lascelles. But there are a lot of others. I was nearly forgetting them. You have a whole string of names, but I can't remember them now, except Katherine and Mary--ah, yes, and there was Fitzalan. I never could understand why they called you Fitzalan. I've got them all written down somewhere, and I'll read them to you presently. We called you Tita after your mother, but I got into the way of calling you Boodles, which means beautiful, and have never got out of it." "You told all this to Mr. Bellamie?" asked Boodles excitedly. "I think so. I tried to," said Weevil hopefully. "Then what does he mean by saying I am of low birth and have no name?" she cried indignantly. "Perhaps he did not understand. Perhaps he hadn't grasped it. I tell a story very badly, dear." That point could not be disputed, and the child seized upon it eagerly. There was no telling what wild rambling statements her grandfather might have poured into the ears of Aubrey's father. But she could tell him now she was quite a well-born little dame, and had a splendid name which was all her own, and she was really good enough for Aubrey after all. She put her head back upon the cushion and began to laugh because she was happy, the day was ending nicely, and she believed the story would end nicely too. She had cried because Aubrey was going away and for no other reason; at one time that afternoon she had not been sure of it, she had almost been afraid that the tears had been brought on by Mr. Bellamie's evil suggestions about her birth; but now she knew that she could hold up her nose with the best of them. She was accustomed to Weevil's eccentric language, his contradictions gave her no suspicions; she swallowed the rambling story whole and wanted more. There were so many questions to be asked and answered. She thought she would write to Aubrey and sign herself Titania Lascelles with great flourishes. "I am glad to hear you laughing, Boodles," said Weevil tenderly.