I
confess it had never occurred to me that our manner of doing was
highly inconvenient, if not impossible, and I approached the subject
of the name with more interest and more modesty.
"Well, Mrs. Bobby," I began, "it is to be Cottage; we've decided
that, have we not? It is to be Cottage, not House, Lodge, Mansion,
or Villa. We cannot name it after any flower that blows, because
they are all taken. Have all the trees been used?"
"Thank you, miss, yes, miss, all but h'ash-tree, and we 'ave no
h'ash."
"Very good, we must follow another plan. Family names seem to be
chosen, such as Gower House, Marston Villa, and the like. 'Bobby
Cottage' is not pretty. What was your maiden name, Mrs. Bobby?"
"Buggins, thank you, miss. 'Elizabeth Buggins, Licensed to sell
Poultry,' was my name and title when I met Mr. Bobby."
"I'm sorry, but 'Buggins Cottage' is still more impossible than
'Bobby Cottage.' Now here's another idea: where were you born,
Mrs. Bobby?"
"In Snitterfield, thank you, miss."
"Dear, dear! how unserviceable!"
"Thank you, miss."
"Where was Mr. Bobby born?"
"He never mentioned, miss."
(Mr. Bobby must have been expansive, for they were married twenty
years.)
"There is always Victoria or Albert," I said tentatively, as I wiped
my brushes.
