The boy was wiping his fingers and his knife with some moss.
“I wish I had a cap on,” he said.
“Why, dear?”
“So as I could take her off and make a bow,” he explained.
“And what is your name, curious boy?”
“Ransey; that’s my front name.”
“But your family name?”
“Ain’t got ne’er a family, ’cepting Babs.”
“But you have a surname—another name, you know.”
“Ransey Tansey all complete. There.”