"I don't know," I admitted.
"No; that's just it. I've only one name, and Arthur and Harry have two. Arthur is a Pothecary" (Chris could never be induced to accept Apothecary as one word), "and he's John Parkinson as well. Harry is Honest Root-gatherer, and he is Francis le Vean. If I'd not been away I should have had two names."
"You can easily have two names," said I. "We'll call the Dwarf Thomas Brown."
Chris shook his big head.
"No, no. That wasn't his name; I know it wasn't. It's only stuff. I want another name out of the old book."
I dared not tell him that the Dwarf was not in the old book. I said:
"My dear Chris, you really are discontented; we can't all have double names. Adela has only one name, she is Weeding Woman and nothing else; and I have only one name, I'm Traveller's Joy, and that's all."
"But you and Adela are girls," said Chris, complacently: "The boys have two names."
I suppressed some resentment, for Christopher's eyes were beginning to look weary, and said:
"Shall I read to you for a bit?"