“‘That’s a very queer name,’ says he.
“‘Oh no!’ says I. ‘They isn’t nothin’ queer about the name o’ Tumm.’
“He laughed a bit—an’ rubbed his feet together: just like a tickled youngster. ‘Ay,’ says he; ‘that’s a wonderful queer name. Hark!’ says he. ‘You just listen, an’ I’ll show you. Tumm,’ says he, ‘Tumm, Tumm, Tumm.... Tumm, Tumm, Tumm.... Tumm—’
“‘Don’t,’ says I, for it give me the fidgets. ‘Don’t say it so often.’
“‘Why not?’ says he.
“‘I don’t like it,” says I.
“‘Tumm,’ says he, with a little cackle, ‘Tumm, Tumm, Tumm—’
“‘Don’t you do that no more,’ says I. ‘I won’t have it. When you says it that way, I ’low I don’t know whether my name is Tumm or Tump. ’Tis a very queer name. I wisht,’ says I, ‘that I’d been called Smith.’
“‘’Twouldn’t make no difference,’ says he. ‘All names is queer if you stops t’ think. Every word you ever spoke is queer. Everything is queer. It’s all queer—once you stops t’ think about it.’
“‘Then I don’t think I’ll stop,’ says I, ‘for I don’t like things t’ be queer.’