stop."

"Told you so," returned Tommy. "Might have saved your money."

"But we shall have to find you another name."

"What for?"

"If you are to be a housekeeper, you must be a girl."

"Don't like girls."

"Can't say I think much of them myself, Tommy. We must make the
best of it. To begin with, we must get you proper clothes."

"Hate skirts. They hamper you."

"Tommy," said Peter severely, "don't argue."

"Pointing out facts ain't arguing," argued Tommy. "They do hamper
you. You try 'em."

The clothes were quickly made, and after a while they came to fit;
but the name proved more difficult of adjustment. A sweet-faced,
laughing lady, known to fame by a title respectable and orthodox,
appears an honoured guest to-day at many a literary gathering. But
the old fellows, pressing round, still call her "Tommy."

The week's trial came to an end. Peter, whose digestion was
delicate, had had a happy thought.