"Your name isn't Christopher? That's what your uncle told me."
"I think you are mistaken," said William quietly.
"What's got into the boy? Is he goin' to deny his own name? What is your name, then?"
"My name is William Morris," was the distinct response.
"What!" exclaimed the blacksmith in amazement.
"I think you ought to know me, Mr. Bickford. I worked for you some time, you know."
"Take off your hat, and let me look at your face!" said Aaron Bickford, sternly.
William laughed as he complied with the request. It was now rather lighter, and the blacksmith, peering into his face, saw that it was indeed true—that the boy on the back seat was not Kit Watson at all, but his ex-apprentice, William Morris.
"It's Bill Morris, by the living jingo!" he exclaimed. "What do you say to that, Sarah?"
"You're a master hand at managing boys, Aaron," said his wife sarcastically.