"No," I declared relentlessly, "I will not interfere in household matters. You have asked me not to do so. You can tell her again that I am a bully, and a tyrant, and anything you choose. It sounds well, you know. You can put it all down to me, and inform her that if she dares to use your Christian name again she can depart to No. 33 Sixth Avenue, up one flight--or two flights--or any number of flights." Letitia scarcely waited until I had finished my chaste remarks. She flew out of the room as though she had been shot, with the evident intention of striking while the iron was heated. I closed the door because I had no desire to hear. Perhaps it was an act of cowardice on my part, but, after all, Letitia herself absolved me from implicating myself in these matters. She had asked me to leave everything to her, and I had no intention of thwarting her in this instance. She returned presently, looking completely relieved. There was even a smile upon her lips. "How silly we were, Archie!" she said, sinking into a chair, "and how ready we were to think the worst of a poor, hard-working woman. She wasn't calling me at all. She heard the child in the drawing-room, and was calling the child. It _is_ a girl, Archie, and its name is Letitia." "Letitia!" I gasped. "That beastly, sticky, obnoxious little imp is named Letitia?" "Is it such a fearful name?" she asked quickly. "I can't say you are complimentary, Archie. Of course, Mrs. McCaffrey didn't know that the child was going to be 'beastly,' 'sticky,' and 'obnoxious' when she called it Letitia. How should she? I felt quite amused, as it is such a strange name to have selected. And yet, it is not at all an extraordinary name when you come to think of it. I know several Letitias, and I have read of many more." "Do be sensible, my girl," I said, trying to be patient. "Surely you must see that we can't have this woman calling Letitia all over the house, when it happens to be the name of the mistress." "But what's to be done?" she asked. "If you are going to suggest that I ask Mrs. McCaffrey to change her daughter's name to Eliza, or Susan, or Sarah--well, I simply decline. Nothing on earth would induce me to do it. I made her consent to be known as Miriam, instead of Birdie, which was quite an undertaking. No more of it for me, thank you. I've finished juggling with these baptismal arrangements. You are most unreasonable. What difference can it make? As long as I don't mind, I can't see why you object. And--and--if there must be a change of name, I'd sooner change mine. Yes, I would, Archie. You can call me Sarah, or Eliza, or Susan, if you like. But I will _not_ ask Mrs. McCaffrey to forego the pleasure of calling her own child by its own legitimate name."