"No," answered the Tyro in such a tone that the elder man grinned.
"Nor care either, eh?"
"No. I'd have punched you in the eye if I'd had time."
"Don't apologize. You did your best. Now that you do know who I am—"
"I don't. Except that you're the father of Little Miss Grouch."
"Of who—um!" demanded the other, rescuing his grammar from his surprise barely in time to save its fair repute.
The Tyro had the grace to blush. "It's just a foolish nickname," he said.
"Particularly inappropriate, I should say. By the way, your own name seems to be a matter of some doubt. What do you call yourself?"
"Smith."
"By what right?"