Shy at the weather, for a saving change,
when the girl slipped in ahead of me and said:
"How I have enjoyed this talk over those happy old times
- haven't you?"
"I never have spent such a half-hour in all my life before!"
said I, with emotion; and I could have added, with a
near approach to truth, "and I would rather be scalped
than spend another one like it." I was holily grateful
to be through with the ordeal, and was about to make
my good-bys and get out, when the girl said:
"But there is one thing that is ever so puzzling to me."
"Why, what is that?"
"That dead child's name. What did you say it was?"
Here was another balmy place to be in: I had forgotten the
child's name; I hadn't imagined it would be needed again.
However, I had to pretend to know, anyway, so I said:
"Joseph William."
The youth at my side corrected me, and said:
"No, Thomas Henry."
I thanked him - in words - and said, with trepidation:
"O yes - I was thinking of another child that I named - I
have named a great many, and I get them confused - this
one was named Henry Thompson - "
"Thomas Henry," calmly interposed the boy.
