"An objection Mr Easy?"

"Yes, my dear; Robert may be very well, but you must reflect upon the
consequences; he is certain to be called Bob."

"Well, my dear, and suppose they do call him Bob?"

"I cannot bear even the supposition, my dear. You forget the county
in which we are residing, the downs covered with sheep."

"Why, Mr Easy, what can sheep have to do with a Christian name?"

"There it is; women never look to consequences. My dear, they have a
great deal to do with the name of Bob. I will appeal to any farmer in
the county, if ninety-nine shepherds' dogs out of one hundred are not
called Bob. Now observe, your child is out of doors somewhere in the
fields or plantations; you want and you call him. Instead of your
child, what do you find? Why, a dozen curs at least, who come running
up to you, all answering to the name of Bob, and wagging their stumps
of tails. You see, Mrs Easy, it is a dilemma not to be got over. You
level your only son to the brute creation by giving him a Christian
name which, from its peculiar brevity, has been monopolised by all the
dogs in the county. Any other name you please, my dear, but in this
one instance you must allow me to lay my positive veto."

"Well, then, let me see--but I'll think of it, Mr Easy; my head aches
very much just now."

"I will think for you, my dear. What do you say to John?"