“Don’t tell her, Johnny!” I cried.
He blushed furiously.
“Yes, I will” he said. “They called me Dandruff, Miss Christmas.”
“Hey! Dandruff? What the deuce did that mean?” demanded his lordship.
“My father invented ‘Grafto,’ sir,” said Johnny; “the—the hair-wash, you know. And he—his name was Dando, you see.”
Lord Skene stared bewildered, but Miss Christmas clasped her hands tragically.
“‘Grafto’!” she exclaimed. “Are you really the son of ‘Grafto’—the ‘Grafto’ that has crowned more heads than Warwick the Kingmaker?”
“Yes,” said Johnny. “That was one of the advertisements. There are lots of others as good or better.”
“Ask her what she owes to advertisements, Johnny?” I said rudely; but her mockery of him annoyed me.
He looked all agape.