A sleek little man in a frock-coat and a tall hat, who had evidently breakfasted on cloves, paused beside me.
“You might not think it,” he said, “to look at me; but that word that you are obviously admiring so naturally—and I may say so justly—originated with me. I invented it.”
“Why?” I asked. “Surely there are other things to do.”
He seemed pained and perplexed.
“It is my business,” he said. “That’s what I do. I have an office; I am well known. All the best firms apply to me. For example,” he went on, “suppose you were to bring out a fluid mutton——”
“Heaven forbid!” I cried.
“Yes, but suppose you were to,” he continued, “and you wanted a name for it, you would come to me.”
“Why shouldn’t I think of one myself?” I asked.
“You!” he cried. “How could you? It’s a special equipment. Just try and you’ll see. What would you call it?”
“Well,” I said after a moment’s thought, “I might call it—I might call it—— Hang it, I wouldn’t do such a thing, anyway.”