There was silence for a little, and then a thought occurred to me. "You know, Archie," I said, "limited as their ideas are, you're rather in their power. Because I was looking through the service in church on Sunday, and there comes a point when the clergyman says to the godfathers, 'Name this child.' Well, there you are, you know. They've got you. You may have fixed on Montmorency Plantagenet, but they've only to say 'Bert,' and the thing is done." "You all forget," said Myra, coming over to sit on the arm of my chair, "that there's a godmother too. I shall forbid the Berts." "Well, that makes it worse. You'll have Myra saying 'Montmorency Plantagenet,' and Samuel saying 'Samuel Thomas,' and Thomas saying 'Thomas Samuel.'" "It will sound rather well," said Archie, singing it over to himself. "Thomas, you take the tenor part, of course: 'Thomas Samuel, Thomas Samuel, Thom-as Sam-u-el.' We must have a rehearsal." For five minutes Myra, Thomas, and Simpson chanted in harmony, being assisted after the first minute by Archie, who took the alto part of "Solomon Joel." He explained that as this was what he and his wife really wanted the child christened ("Montmorency Plantagenet" being only an invention of the godmother's) it would probably be necessary for him to join in too. "Stop!" cried Dahlia, when she could bear it no longer; "you'll wake baby." There was an immediate hush. "Samuel," said Archie in a whisper, "if you wake the baby I'll kill you." The question of his name was still not quite settled, and once more we gave ourselves up to thought. "Seeing that he's the very newest little Rabbit," said Myra, "I do think he might be called after some very great cricketer." "That was the idea in christening him 'Samuel,'" said Archie. "Gaukrodger Carkeek Butt Bajana Mannering," I suggested--"something like that?" "Silly; I meant 'Charles,' after Fry." "'Schofield,' after Haigh," murmured Thomas. "'Warren,' after Bardsley, would be more appropriate to a Rabbit," said Simpson, beaming round at us. There was, however, no laughter. We had all just thought of it ourselves. "The important thing in christening a future first-class cricketer," said Simpson, "is to get the initials right. What could be better than 'W. G.' as a nickname for Grace? But if 'W. G.'s' initials had been 'Z. Z.,' where would you have been?" "Here," said Archie. The shock of this reply so upset Simpson that his glasses fell off. He picked them out of the fender and resumed his theme. "Now, if the baby were christened 'Samuel Thomas' his initials would be 'S. T.,' which are perfect. And the same as Coleridge's." "Is that Coleridge the wicket-keeper, or the fast bowler?" Simpson opened his mouth to explain, and then, just in time, decided not to. "I forgot to say," said Archie, "that anyhow he's going to be called Blair, after his mamma."