No voice had been or was raised above a whisper. It was a witching hour and its spell was upon them all.
“Yes.”
“What is your name?”
“Helen.”
Now Helen had been “Crackerjack’s” mother’s name and it was the name of his own little girl, and although everybody else called her Nell, to him she was always Helen.
“And my name’s John,” volunteered the other child.
“John!” That was extraordinary!
“What’s your other name?”
“John William.”
The man stared again. Could this be coincidence merely? John was his own name and William that of his brother.