"It's a good old English name, Miss," he returned, a little gruffly, "and
never been dishonored, as I know of."

"Oh, I think it's a very nice name," said Marjorie, quickly, for she had
had no intention of being unpleasantly critical, "only I think it's a
funny name. You see Pompton sounds so much like pumpkin."

"Do you think so, Miss?"

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter about a name, anyway. Tell me about your
people. Have you any little boys and girls?"

"No, Miss; I never was married, Miss. And I ain't overly fond of
children."

"Really, aren't you, Pompton? Well, you'll have to begin being fond of
them, because you see, us Maynard children just can't stand anybody
around who isn't fond of us. Though of course we've never tried, for
everybody who has lived with us has always been terribly fond of us."

"Maybe it'll be a pleasant change then, Miss, to try another sort."
Pompton's eyes twinkled good-naturedly as he said this, and Marjorie
instinctively recognized that he was trying to joke.

"Ah, you're fond of us already, Pompton, and you needn't say you're not!
It's a funny thing," she went on, confidentially, "but everybody loves
us Maynards,--and yet we're such a bad lot."

"A bad lot, Miss?"