“Mrs. Norris,” Jerry took up the spirit of the game, “may I make known Mr. Richard, Mr. Richard Richard?”
“Is that his name?” she asked without turning around, “or are you stuttering from nervousness?”
“His name is Mr. Richard Richard.”
Phœbe looked over her shoulder at him incredulously.
“That’s not a name,” said she; “it’s the chorus of a song. Do you mean to say your last name’s Richard?”
“I do.”
“And you say your first name’s Richard, too?”
“I do.”
“You talk like a wedding.”
“I do.”