Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry.

"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam.

"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh of relief.

"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this child?"

All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content.

It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on the yellow flossy curls against her breast.

"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle.

"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph.

"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the paper, mother?"

"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?"

"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say."

"Oh, call him Arthur!"

"Bill!"

"Richard!"

"Charlie!"

"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus.

"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his privilege."

"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, and suffered under his own cognomen.

"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this family."

"Yes, father!" said Lemuel.

"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden.

"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you shall open it."

Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read:

"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'"

"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother Golden.

"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!"

"Amen!" said Father Golden.

_PART II_.

"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?"

It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life.

Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but his eyes were still young and kind.

"What is it, daughter Mary?"

"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict enough--I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know it's true--and Adam is too strict."

"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden.

"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?"

"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted--oh, Mary! what shall I do with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father."

"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter."

"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys.

Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little."

"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary.

"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for a boy to do just at this time of year."

"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth.

"Here he comes now."

Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy.

"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the portrait on his desk.

"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover--"

"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently.

"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth.

"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the gla.s.s in the kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be a perfect nuisance."

"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?"

"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?"