and I suppose it must be even worse to have it pronounced wrong."

"Certainly it is. And Clarice Almira also informed me that you call my
son Jacob."

"He told me his name was Jacob," protested Anne.

"I might well have expected that," said Mrs. H. B. Donnell, in a tone
which implied that gratitude in children was not to be looked for in
this degenerate age. "That boy has such plebeian tastes, Miss Shirley.
When he was born I wanted to call him St. Clair . . . it sounds SO
aristocratic, doesn't it? But his father insisted he should be called
Jacob after his uncle. I yielded, because Uncle Jacob was a rich old
bachelor. And what do you think, Miss Shirley? When our innocent boy was
five years old Uncle Jacob actually went and got married and now he has
three boys of his own. Did you ever hear of such ingratitude? The moment
the invitation to the wedding . . . for he had the impertinence to send
us an invitation, Miss Shirley . . . came to the house I said, 'No more
Jacobs for me, thank you.' From that day I called my son St. Clair and
St. Clair I am determined he shall be called. His father obstinately
continues to call him Jacob, and the boy himself has a perfectly
unaccountable preference for the vulgar name. But St. Clair he is and
St. Clair he shall remain. You will kindly remember this, Miss Shirley,
will you not? THANK you. I told Clarice Almira that I was sure it was
only a misunderstanding and that a word would set it right. Donnell. . .
accent on the last syllable . . . and St. Clair . . . on no account
Jacob. You'll remember? THANK you."

When Mrs. H. B. DonNELL had skimmed away Anne locked the school door and
went home. At the foot of the hill she found Paul Irving by the Birch