He: “That is an uncommon name, Miss—Smith.”
She: “As uncommon, I suppose, as our mutual surname is common.”
He: “Were you named for anybody in especial?”
She: “For a very dear lady in especial. For my mother’s twin sister.”
He: “She was a Parkinson?”
She: “She was a Parkinson.”
He: “She married a Smith?”
She: “She married a Smith, of Virginia. So did my mother another Smith, of another State. The world is full of them, Mr. Smith. We shall never be lonely because of a dearth of our patronymic.” The lady was smiling in great amusement, and, it is possible, the amusement was tinctured by a spice of malice.
He: “What was your mother’s Christian name, if I may ask?”
She: “Surely you may ask, and I will answer to the best of my ability. Her name was Sophronia.”