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A sort of shame at using in this company the name that was sacred to home, to the old parson, and to John Storm, came creeping over Glory like a goosing of the flesh, and by the inspiration of a sudden memory she answered, "Gloria," The little lady paused with the black pencil at her eyebrows, and said: "My! What a nyme for the top line of a bill!" "Ugh!
"Can you tell me, little one " he said, laying his hand on her head. "Chuck it!" said the little girl. "No, no!" responded Mr. Lavender, deeply hurt. "Can you tell me where I can find the Minister?" "'Ave you an appointment? "No; but I wrote to him. He should expect me." "Wot nyme?" "John Lavender. Here is my card." "I'll tyke it in. Wyte 'ere!" "Wonderful!" mused Mr.
He seemed not ill-pleased when he had drawn a certain number of eyes to his long hair, picturesque hat, and flowing Byronic tie. 'Wot's the lydy's nyme? 'I ain't seen this one before. 'Is she Mrs. or Miss? 'She's dumb, anyway, like 'e said. 'Haw! haw! The anxious chairman was fidgeting in an agony of apprehension. He whispered some kind prompting word after he had flung out
Forgot his nyme an' all. I s'y, how abaout him, anyw'y?" "Boys," said Ryder, "I'll tell you. Nickerson yes, I know the yarns about him. It was this way y'see, I ain't keeping anything from you, boys. Two years ago he was a Methody preacher in Santa Clara.
"If it comes, we must see it through; but the breakfasts will be fewer. It works down one way or another it all works down to this poor little devil and his kind." "Now, what's your name?" he asked. "Jigger," was the reply. "What else?" "Nothin', y'r gryce." "Jigger what?" "It's the only nyme I got," was the reply. "What's your father's or your mother's name?" "I ain't got none.
"My real name is Herrick. No more Hay" they had both used the same alias, "no more Hay than yours, I daresay." "Clean bowled in the middle stump!" laughed the clerk. "My name's 'Uish, if you want to know. Everybody has a false nyme in the Pacific. Lay you five to three the captain 'as."
Her suspense of mind was such that it seemed long hours before she knocked at the blistered door in the Blomfield Road where Miss Nippett lived. Miss Nippett was in, she learned from the red-nosed, chilblain-fingered slut who opened the door. "What nyme?" "Mrs Kenrick, who was Miss Keeves," replied Mavis. "Will you go up?" said the slut when, a few minutes later, she came downstairs.
The Bruiser watched him furtively with little piglike eyes. "And who might ye be, stranger?" he asked when Benito set down his glass. "'Awkins that's as good a nyme as another," said Benito, essaying the cockney speech. "And what ye daon't know won't 'urt you, my friend." He threw down a silver piece, took the bottle and glass with him and sat down at a table near the corner.
"The pore child told us all about you," said Betty; and the little one said: "It's your nyme that caught on, dear. The minute I heard it I said what a top-line for a, bill!" It was the same little bandbox of a bedroom, only now it was darkened and Polly's troubles were over.
"Not a bad face, girls, eh?" The other two glanced at Glory approvingly. "Not bad," they answered, and then hummed or whistled as they went on with their making-up. "Oh, thank you," said Glory, with a low courtesy, and everybody laughed. It was really very amusing. Suddenly it ceased to be so. "And what's it's nyme, my dear?" said the little lady.
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