And there followed him "big John Brown," of mathematical and pugilistic renown.
He stared at Betty very hard, and Betty stared at him—only for a moment, though, for Baby began to cry and had to be hushed—and the chain clanked and frightened her while it produced no visible effect upon her grandfather.
The old man turned sharply to the wondering boy.
"Is this a trick of yours, John?" he demanded sharply.
"No," said Betty, "it's—it's only me," and she looked straight into her grandfather's face, although her voice was trembling.
"And who are only you?"
The child hesitated. In a vague way she felt she would be doing her mother's and Cyril's great future an injury to tell her name. And yet, quick-witted as she was, it did not occur to her to find a new one.
The young face in the old black bonnet looked beseechingly into the man's.
"Please don't ask my name," she begged.
"Take off your bonnet."