admired pluck. The lively, chatterbox-one was 'Evangeline' and the quiet
one who should have been an Evangeline was what the other one ought to
have been,--a 'Stefana,' suggestive of flashing, dark eyes under a lace
mantilla, with ways to match the eyes. So does fate play her little
jokes. The baby--but what do I know of babies or you know of babies? He
had six toes and I might have seen them for nothing; so do we miss our
opportunities. He was named for his grandfather just in time, but the
name, my dear, the name! Elihu. Are you listening? _Elihu_! But they
offered him the assuaging 'sop' of 'Launcelot' for a middle name, and
what could a baby do? Babies are the little scapegoats of mistaken
loyalties."

Miss Theodosia was having a good time. Her sober mood had passed. She
wrote on enjoyingly, describing the whole little episode to Cornelia
Dunlap. The freshening of it in her memory was pleasant. Again she felt
the tug of those eager little pleadings. She kept remembering other
things about little Elihu Launcelot besides his name and his toes. She
remembered how gravely he had looked at her, how tiny and soft his hands
were.

"That little box of a house next to mine, Cornelia,--I told you about
it. Well, it's as full now as it has been empty, and a little fuller.
Dear knows how many it holds! But it's sociable seeing the smoke come
out of the chimney; _it's friendly_."

She had not thought of it as sociable and friendly before. The thought
seemed just to have come to her. She was quite cheerful-minded when she
finished her letter to Cornelia Dunlap and neatly folded it. If she had
but known, she was sorry for Cornelia who was not next door to a
friendly little box.