“That is strange,” murmured Dud. “French folks are like that, though. They get themselves born in the queerest places!”
Monty glared. “What’s queer about a Frenchwoman being born in France?” he demanded.
“Pay no attention to him,” said Jimmy soothingly. “Most natural thing in the world, if you ask me. I suppose your grandfather’s name was Henri. That’s a popular name with them.”
“Yes, it was: Henri Montfort.”
“He spelled Henri with an A?” asked Jimmy, sweetly.
“What? No! Henri was his second name. His first name was A, like I told you. A Henri Montfort.”
“I see. Quite simple, Monty. Well, fellows, say we have one more little song before we go.” Jimmy picked up his banjo again, re-crossed his legs, bringing a grunt of remonstrance from Leon, and struck a chord. “What’ll it be now?”
“‘I Didn’t Choose My Name,’” replied Dud and Leon in unison.
“All right, but I wish I could think up that second verse, fellows. Maybe it will come to me when I get there. I’ll sing the verse, and you fellows come in on the refrain. Let her go!”
So Jimmy wailed the pathetic ballad again, and Dud and Leon howled the chorus with relish. Then, however, instead of stopping, Jimmy began a second verse.