"What about 'Stefana and mothers'?" she prodded gently. A cloud had
settled on the child's vivid little face and threatened to overshade the
childlier child, as well. "I suppose 'Stefana' is a Spanish person,
isn't she?" The name had a definitely foreign sound.

"Oh, no'm--just a United States. We're all United States. Mother named
her; we've all got beautiful names, except poor Elly. Mother hated to
call him Elihu, but there was Grandfather gettin' older an' older all
the time, an' she dassen't wait till the next one. She put it off an'
off with the other boys, Carruthers an' Gilpatrick--he's dead. She just
couldn't name any of 'em Elihu, till Grandfather scared her, gettin' so
old. She was afraid there wouldn't be time, an' there wasn't any to
spare. Grandfather's dead now--she's thankful enough she didn't wait any
longer. He was so pleased. He said be could depart this life easier,
leavin' an Elihu Flagg behind him. An', anyway, Mother says Elly can
call himself his middle name, if he'd ruther, when he's twenty-one--his
middle name's Launcelot."

Elihu Launcelot, at this juncture, toppled over against the little flat
breast of his nurse, asleep--or in a swoon; Miss Theodosia had her
fears. There seemed sufficient swooning cause.

"Stefana," she prompted again, her interest advancing at a rapid pace,
"and mothers--"

"Stefana's our oldest. She's goin' to run us while Mother's away. She's
got a job before her! All I can do is 'tend Elly Precious--we're all
boys, but us. But, of course, runnin' the family isn't the real
trouble--not what made Mother cry."