“My name? Great Scott, you don’t know it!” he threw back his head and a jolly, sonorous laugh filled the room. “That’s great, you and I sitting here together over supper as if we’d grown up together in the same nursery, and you don’t know what my name is. It’s Gamaliel Barron. Do you like it?”
“Yes,” said Mariposa, gravely, “it’s a very nice name.”
“I’m glad you think so. I can’t say I’m much attached to the front end of it. It’s a Bible name. I haven’t the least idea who the gentleman was, or what he did, but he’s in the Bible somewhere.”
“Saul sat at his feet,” said Mariposa; “he was a great teacher.”
“Well, I’m afraid his namesake isn’t much like him. I never taught anybody anything, and certainly no one ever sat at my feet, and I’d hate it if they did.”
There was another pause, while Barron continued his supper with unabated gusto. He had finished the cold meat and was now spreading jam on bread and butter and eating it, with alternate mouthfuls of tea. Though he ate rapidly, as one accustomed to take his meals alone, he ate like a gentleman. She found herself regarding him with a listless curiosity, faintly wondering what manner of man he was.
Looking up he met her eyes and said:
“You’ll be very comfortable here. Don’t let the first glimpse discourage you. Elsie’s careless, and the boys are pretty wild, but they’re all right when you come to know them better, and grandma’s fine. There’s not many women in San Francisco to match old Señora Garcia. She’s the true kind.”
“What a pity her son died!” said Mariposa.
He raised his head instantly and an expression of pain passed over his face.