"I don't want to know how to spell anything, thank you; but I believe you can help me all the same." Miss Middleton sat down and drank her tea. "I love helping," she said. "Well, it's this. I've just been asked to be a godfather." Miss Middleton stood up suddenly. "Do I salute," she asked. "You sit down and go on eating. The difficulty is--what to call it?" "Oh, do godfathers provide the names?" "I think so. It is what they are there for, I fancy. That is about all there is in it, I believe." "And can't you find anything in the dictionary?" "Well, I don't think the dictionary is helping as much as I expected. It only muddles me. Did you know that Algernon meant 'with whiskers'? I'm not thinking of calling it Algernon, but that's the sort of thing they spring on you." "But I hate Algernon anyhow. Why not choose quite a simple name? Had you thought of 'John,' for instance?" "No, I hadn't thought of 'John,' somehow." "Or 'Gerald'?" "'Gerald' I like very much." "What about 'Dick'?" she went on eagerly. "Yes, 'Dick' is quite jolly. By the way, did I tell you it was a girl?" Miss Middleton rose with dignity. "For your slice of plum cake and your small cup of tea I thank you," she said; "and I am now going straight home to mother." "Not yet," I pleaded. "I'll just ask you one question before I go. Where do you keep the biscuits?" She found the biscuits and sat down again. "A girl's name," I said encouragingly. "Yes. Well, is she fair or dark?" "She's very small at present. What there is of her is dark, I believe." "Well, there are millions of names for dark girls." "We only want one or two." "'Barbara' is a nice dark name. Is she going to be pretty?" "Her mother says she is. I didn't recognize the symptoms. Very pretty and very clever and very high-spirited, her mother says. Is there a name for that?" "_I_ always call them whoppers," said Miss Middleton. "How do you like 'Alison Mary'? That was my first idea." "Oh, I thought it was always 'William and Mary.' Or else 'Victoria and Albert.'" "I didn't say 'Alice AND Mary,' stoopid. I said 'Alison,' a Scotch name." "But how perfectly sweet! Why weren't you MY godfather? Would you have given me a napkin ring?" "Probably. I will now, if you like. Then you approve of 'Alison Mary'?" "I love it. Thank you very much. And will you always call me 'Alison' in future?" "I say," I began in alarm, "I'm not giving that name to you. It's for my godchild." "Oh no! 'Alisons' are ALWAYS fair." "You've just made that up," I said suspiciously. "How do you know?" "Sort of instinct." "The worst of it is, I believe you're right." "Of course I am. That settles it. Now, what was your next idea?" "'Angela.'" "'Angelas,'" said Miss Middleton, "are ALWAYS fair." "Why do you want all the names to yourself? You say everything's fair." "Why can you only think of names beginning with 'A'? Try another letter." "Suppose YOU try now."