'Then perhaps you will remove your hat, Mr. Tramplara.'
'I object to be so called,' answered the young man sharply. 'My name, sir, is Trampleasure, and only those who can't spell call me otherwise.'
'Very well, Mr. Trampleasure; will you remove your hat?'
'Who are you? I don't know you. Never had the pleasure of seeing your face that I am aware of. What may your d—d name be, hey?'
'Sir,' said Herring, rising, 'I will stand no insolence. When you ask my name properly, you shall have it.'
'O Lord! who cares a brass button what you be called? Keep your name to yourself if you like.'
Herring walked straight up to him, composedly and firmly, looked him full in the eyes, and said, 'You have been drinking. Remove your hat, or I will knock it off.'
Tramplara took off his beaver and put it testily on the table.
'I am not a bad fellow,' he said, 'when asked a civil question, but I object to be bullied.'
Then he seated himself near the table, looking sulky.