“Oh, say, Miss Jenny!” protested Blake, genially. “We live in the same boarding-house now. Why not be folksy? You’re free to call me Tom. Pass me another nut, Winthrope. Thanks! By the way, what’s your front name? Saw it aboard ship–Cyril–”
“Cecil,” corrected Winthrope, in a low tone.
“Cecil–Lord Cecil, eh?–or is it only The Honorable Cecil?”
“My dear sir, I have intimated before that, for reasons of–er–State–”
“Oh, yes; you’re travelling incog., in the secret service. Sort of detective–”
“Detective!” echoed Winthrope, in a peculiar tone.
Blake grinned. “Well, it is rawther a nawsty business for your honorable ludship. But there’s nothing like calling things by their right names.”
“Right names–er–I don’t quite take you. I have told you distinctly, my name is Cecil Winthrope!”
“O-h-h! how lovely!–See-sill! See-seal!–Bet they called you Sissy at school. English, chum of mine told me your schools are corkers for nicknames. What’ll we make it–Sis or Sissy?”