It was such a perfect, yet not overdone burlesque of an embarrassed youth, that Patty broke into peals of laughter.
“Don’t!” she cried. “Be yourself, whatever it is. I can’t revise back and forth every two minutes! I say, Mr. Chickering Channing, you’re going to be great fun, aren’t you?”
“Bid me to live and I will live, your Funnyman to be. Whatever you desire, I’m it. So you see, I am a nice, handy man to have in the house.”
“Indeed you are. I foresee we shall be friends. But what can I call you? That whole title, as I just used it, is too long,—even for this big house.”
“You know what the rest call me.”
Patty pouted a little. “I never call people what other people call them.”
“Oh, Lord, more trouble!” and Chick rolled his eyes as if in despair. “Well, choose a name for yourself——”
“No, I want one for you!”
“Oh, what a funny young miss! Well, choose, but don’t be all night about it. And I warn you if I don’t like it, I won’t let you use it.”
“‘Shy!’ Oh, my!” murmured Patty. “Well, I shall call you Chickadee, whether you like it or not.”