"You did not, to be sure, though I asked you what it was."
"What sort of a game are you trying to play off on me? I am an innocent young fellow of sixteen, and I don't like to have others playing tricks on me. Who told you my name, if you please?"
"No one told me your name; and I don't know yet what it is, though I have asked it of you."
"Oh, get away with you! You are playing off something on me which I don't understand, and I think I had better bid you good-morning," added Christy, as he started to move off.
"Then you won't tell me your name. Stay a minute."
"You know my name as well as I do, and you are up to some trick with me," protested Christy, halting.
"'Pon my honor as a Southern gentleman, I don't know your name."
"If you are a Southern gentleman, I must believe you, for I did not come from as far north as I might have come. My name is Percy Pierson," added Christy seriously; for he felt that this was actually war, and that the strategy that does not always or often speak the truth was justifiable.
"Percy Pierson!" exclaimed the real owner of the name. "Didn't I just tell you that was my name?"
"Undoubtedly you did, and that is the reason why I thought you were making game of me."