“Charmin’. Call you Goose, eh? Charmin’ name.”
“A silly name, isn’t it?” said Miss Perry.
“Charmin’,” said George. “Charmin’ name. I’ll call you Goose myself if you have no objection.”
“Oh do, please,” said Miss Perry, “then I shall know we are friends.”
“Capital! Shall I tell you, Miss Goose, what they call me?”
“Oh do, please,” said Miss Perry.
“They call me Gobo, because they say I gobble like a turkey.”
“What fun!” cried Miss Perry. “What a splendid name! I shall write to tell Muffin about it.”
Miss Perry’s clear peal of laughter appeared to excite the curiosity of a particularly well-groomed and well-gowned section of the British public which occupied the chairs along the path. At all events, it eyed the slow-moving procession very intently.
“Here comes that gal,” said the proprietor of the cool and youthful tones, removing a silver-mounted stick from his mouth. “She’s got another old sportsman with her.”