“Because I was afraid you were. Well, I shall catch it if I stop any longer. I say, is your ma better?”
I shook my head.
“Ain’t going to die, is she?”
“Oh no!” I said sharply.
“That’s all right. Well, you get her to let you come. What’s your name?”
“Grant,” I said.
“Grant! Grant what?”
“Dennison.”
“Oh, all right, Grant! I shall call for you next half-holiday; and mind you come.”
“Stop a moment,” I said. “What’s your name?”