Brown on Resolution by C.S. Forester — Read

She called him Albert; goodness knows why. She would not have "Dick," which one might have thought her natural choice. Somewhere within her she realized that Richard Saville-Samarez did not possess quite as much brains as she would like her child to have, and she would take no chances. She had hesitated over "George," but had put it aside in case she ever encountered her family again, for "George" was her father's name as well as her favourite brother's, and she would not have them think that the child was called after them; for it might give them a feeling of proprietary interest, and she did not want that; Albert was all her own. So she chose "Albert. " She knew personally no one of that name at all, which satisfied her jealous desire for possession, while about the name there clung a flavour of association with the Royal Family which endeared it to her rather bourgeois little heart.

And Albert Brown grew up and developed just as other babies did, although Agatha would have indignantly denied any similarity. He took his food manfully. He played with his toys at first with feeble, fumbling fingers of helpless babyhood, and later with the more purposeful action of growing muscle sense. He cut his teeth and fretted over them just as much as one would expect of a healthy child of healthy parents. He achieved his first sitting up and his first straggling attempt to kick. Once or twice he allowed his digestion to become upset. Soon he achieved the miracle of an erect attitude, and eventually came the glorious day when he first addressed Agatha as "Mummy," and not long after Mrs. Rodgers developed into Miss Ozzes.