"I have no name but Capitola, sir."
"Who is your father?"
"Never had any that I know, sir."
"Your mother?"
"Never had a mother either, sir, as ever I heard."
"Where do you live?"
"About in spots in the city, sir."
"Oh—oh—oh!" groaned old Hurricane within his hands.
"What is your calling?" inquired the clerk.
"Selling newspapers, carrying portmanteaus and packages sweeping before doors, clearing off snow, blacking boots and so on."