had given them names out of books—quite romantic names. She called them the Montmorencys when she did not call them the Large Family. The fat, fair baby with the lace cap was Ethelberta Beauchamp Montmorency; the next baby was Violet Cholmondeley Montmorency; the little boy who could just stagger and who had such round legs was Sydney Cecil Vivian Montmorency; and then came Lilian Evangeline Maud Marion, Rosalind Gladys, Guy Clarence, Veronica Eustacia, and Claude Harold Hector.
One evening a very
the table, putting a large, black-velvet hat on the impassively smiling owner of all these splendors—“suppose she understands human talk and feels proud of being admired.”
“You are always supposing things,” said Lavinia, and her air was very superior.
“I know I am,” answered Sara, undisturbedly. “I