“Altogether!” Cora spoke as with quite the measure of the time. Mrs. Gracedew, revolving a moment in silence, appeared to accept her showing. “Then what’s the matter?” she impatiently asked. “The matter?” “Your father’s objection to the gentleman in the grotto.” Cora now for the first time faltered. “His name.” This for a moment pulled up her friend, in whom, however, relief seemed to contend with alarm. “Only his name?” “Yes, but----” Cora’s eyes rolled. Her companion invitingly laughed. “But it’s enough?” Her roll confessingly fixed itself. “_Not_ enough--that’s just the trouble!” Mrs. Gracedew looked kindly curious. “What then _is_ it?” Cora faced the music. “Pegg.” Mrs. Gracedew stared. “Nothing else?” “Nothing to speak of.” The girl was quite candid now. “Hall.” “Nothing before----?” “Not a letter.” “Hall Pegg?” Mrs. Gracedew had winced, but she quickly recovered herself, and, for a further articulation, appeared, from delicacy, to form the sound only with her mind. The sound she formed with her lips was, after an instant, simply “Oh!” It was to the combination of the spoken and the unspoken that Cora desperately replied. “It sounds like a hat-rack!” “‘Hall Pegg’? ‘Hall Pegg’?” Mrs. Gracedew now made it, like a questionable coin, ring upon the counter. But it lay there as lead and without, for a moment, her taking it up again. “How many has your father?” she inquired instead. “How many names?” Miss Prodmore seemed dimly to see that there was no hope in that. “He somehow makes out five.” “Oh, that’s _too_ many!” Mrs. Gracedew jeeringly declared. “Papa unfortunately doesn’t think so, when Captain Yule, I believe, has six.” “Six?” Mrs. Gracedew, alert, looked as if that might be different. “Papa, in the morning-room, told me them all.” Mrs. Gracedew visibly considered, then for a moment dropped Mr. Pegg. “And what _are_ they!” “Oh, all sorts. ‘Marmaduke Clement----’” Cora tried to recall. Mrs. Gracedew, however, had already checked her. “I see--‘Marmaduke Clement’ will do.” She appeared for a minute intent, but, as with an energetic stoop, she picked up Mr. Pegg. “But so will yours,” she said, with decision. “Mine?--you mean _his_!” “The same thing--what you’ll _be_.” “Mrs. Hall Pegg!”--Cora tried it, with resolution, loudly. It fell a little flat in the noble space, but Mrs. Gracedew’s manner quickly covered it. “It won’t make you a bit less charming.” Cora wondered--she hoped. “Only for papa.” And what was _he_? Mrs. Gracedew by this time seemed assentingly to ask. “Never for _me_!” she soothingly declared. Cora took this in with deep thanks that gripped and patted her companion’s hand. “You accept it more than gracefully. But if you could only make _him_----!” Mrs. Gracedew was all concentration. “‘Him’? Mr. Pegg?” “No--he naturally _has_ to accept it. But papa.” She looked harder still at this greater feat, then seemed to see light. “Well, it will be difficult--but I will.”