“There was a gent called me names this mornin’, and give me twenty cents for doin’ it.”
“What did he call you?”
“I dunno; but it must have been something awful bad, it was so long.”
“You’re a strange girl, Tom.”
“Am I? Well, I reckon I am. What’s your name?”
“John Goodwin.”
“John Goodwin?” repeated Tom, by way of fixing it in her memory.
“Yes; haven’t you got any other name than Tom?”
“I dunno. I think granny called me Jane once. But it’s a good while ago. Everybody calls me Tom, now.”
“Well, Tom, I must be getting back to the store. Good-by. I hope you’ll get along.”