“My name isn't Sam,” expostulated Herbert, who had a natural preference for his own appellation.
“That's what I'm goin' to call you. You can call yourself George Washington, or General Jackson, ef you want to. Mebbe you're Christopher Columbus.”
“My name is Herbert Reynolds,” said Herbert, annoyed.
“That's what you call yourself to-day. There's no knowin' who you'll be to-morrow.”
“Don't you believe me, Mrs. Barton?” asked Herbert, distressed.
“No, I don't. The man who brung you—I dis-remember his name—”
“Willis Ford.”
“Well, Willis Ford, then! It seems you know his name. Well, he told me you was loony, and thought you was somebody else than your own self.”
“He told you that I was crazy?” ejaculated Herbert.
“Yes; and I have no doubt it's so.”