Katy knew exactly what it would be called, but as Wilford had never asked her, she was keeping it a secret, not doubting that the others would be quite as much delighted as herself with the novel name. Not long before her illness she had read an English story, which had in it a _Genevra_, and she had at once seized upon it as the most delightful cognomen a person could well possess. “_Genevra Cameron!_” She had repeated it to herself many a time as she sat with her baby in her lap. She had written it on sundry slips of paper, which had afterwards found their way into the grate; and once she had scratched with her diamond ring upon the window pane in her dressing-room, where it now stood in legible characters, “_Genevra Cameron!_” There should be no middle name to take from the sweetness of the first—only Genevra—that was sufficient; and the little lady tapped her foot impatiently upon the carpet, wishing Wilford and his father would hurry and come in. Never for an instant had it entered her mind that she, as the mother, would not be permitted to call her baby what she chose; so when she heard Mrs. Cameron speaking to Helen of _Margaret Augusta_, she smiled complacently, tossing her curls of golden brown, and thinking to herself, “Maggie Cameron—pretty enough, but not like Genevra. Indeed, I shall not have any Margarets now; next time perhaps I may.” The gentlemen came at last, and father Cameron drew his chair close to Katy’s side, laying his hand on her little soft warm one, and giving it a squeeze as the bright face glanced lovingly into his. Father Cameron had grown a milder, gentler man since Katy came. He now went much oftener into society, and did not so frequently shock his wife with expressions and opinions which she held as heterodox. Katy had a softening influence over him, and he loved her as well perhaps as he had ever loved his own children. “Better,” Juno said; and now she touched Bell’s arm, to have her see “how father was petting Katy.” But Bell did not care, while Wilford was pleased, and himself drew nearer the chair, standing just behind it, so that Katy could not see him as he smoothed her curly head, and said, half indifferently, “Now for the all-important name. What shall we call our daughter?” “Let your mother speak first,” Katy said, and thus appealed to, Mrs. Cameron came up to Wilford and expressed her preference for _Margaret_, as being a good name, an aristocratic name, and her own. “Yes, but not half so pretty and striking as Rose Marie,” Juno chimed in. “Rose Mary! Thunder!” father Cameron exclaimed. “Call her a _marygold_, or a _sunflower_, just as much. Don’t go to being fools by giving a child a heathenish name. Give us your opinion, Katy.”