‘Mr Pogram!’ cried the shrill boy.
The spokesman thus reminded of the shrill boy’s presence, introduced him. ‘Doctor Ginery Dunkle, sir. A gentleman of great poetical elements. He has recently jined us here, sir, and is an acquisition to us, sir, I do assure you. Yes, sir. Mr Jodd, sir. Mr Izzard, sir. Mr Julius Bib, sir.’
‘Julius Washington Merryweather Bib,’ said the gentleman himself to himself.
‘I beg your pardon, sir. Excuse me. Mr Julius Washington Merryweather Bib, sir; a gentleman in the lumber line, sir, and much esteemed. Colonel Groper, sir. Pro-fessor Piper, sir. My own name, sir, is Oscar Buffum.’
Each man took one slide forward as he was named; butted at the Honourable Elijah Pogram with his head; shook hands, and slid back again. The introductions being completed, the spokesman resumed.
‘Sir!’
‘Mr Pogram!’ cried the shrill boy.
‘Perhaps,’ said the spokesman, with a hopeless look, ‘you will be so good, Dr. Ginery Dunkle, as to charge yourself with the execution of our little office, sir?’
As there was nothing the shrill boy desired more, he immediately stepped forward.
‘Mr Pogram! Sir! A handful of your fellow-citizens, sir, hearing of your arrival at the National Hotel, and feeling the patriotic character of your public services, wish, sir, to have the gratification of beholding you, and mixing with you, sir; and unbending with you, sir, in those moments which—’