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"An' most o' them come my way, too," he added, with thoughtful pride. "Here, wait." He drew out a greasy note-book. "Y'see I kind o' keep re-cords o' likely folks. Mebbe some o' the names'll prompt you. Now ther's M. Wilkes, she's got a swellin', I don't rightly know wher' ther's folk talks of it bein' toomer deadly toomer.
"Shame on you, Angus MacLean ditching the skipper like that!" "Sticks an' stones may break ma bones, but names'll never hur-rt me," Mr. MacLean retorted. "I tell ye I dinna care for creosote in ma porridge." And he followed Matt Peasley aft, where the latter paid him off and gave him five minutes to pack and get off the ship.
"It describes her with more accuracy than you think," retorted Auntie Sue, smiling in return at his teasing manner. "I reckon as how she's got more of er name than that, ain't she?" said Judy, who was a silent, but intensely interested, listener. "I've allus took notice that folks with funny names'll stand a right smart of watchin'."
John sat down at his desk again. "Sticks an' stones'll break my bones, but names'll never hurt me," he quoted at her. "When you're dead and in your grave, you'll suffer for what you called me!" She came behind him and put her arms tightly round his neck and forced his head back so that she could conveniently kiss him. "There!" she exclaimed, hurrying from the room, "I've kissed you anyhow!"
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