"Not Mr. Cleverest I am only a Superlative as yet. But I am charmed to meet you-er-Viola. What a delightful title! May I ask what it signifies in your own city?"
Trenmore frowned and scratched his head.
"We shall never get anywhere at this rate!" he complained.
Drayton came to the rescue. "It might be better, sir, if we begin by making allowances for entirely different customs, here and where we came from. 'Viola' is a given name; it is proper to address the lady as Miss Trenmore. My own name is Robert Drayton; that gentleman is Mr. Terence Trenmore, and this is Mr. Arnold Bertram."
Cleverest bowed, though still with a puzzled expression.
"I admit that to me your titles appear to have no meaning, and seem rather long for convenience. As you say, however, it may be best to leave explanations till later. Time presses. Forgive me for dragging you out of bed so early, but there is something you should know before Her Loveliness plunges you into difficulties. She is likely to be here at any moment. May I ask your attention?"
The man was making a patent effort to appear friendly, though after a somewhat condescending manner.
"You are very kind," said Viola, speaking for the first time, "to put yourself out for us, Mr.-How would you wish us to call you, sir?"
"Just Cleverest-or Clever, to my friends," he added with a smirk of his traplike mouth. "I believe my presence and errand are sufficient proof that I wish you for friends. It is well enough for you, Mr.-er-Trenmore, to enter the contest for Strongest. Lovely knows her own hand in that respect. There will be no question of failure. But for you, Miss Trenmore, it is a different pair of shoes. Have you any idea of the duties connected with the position of Superlatively Domestic?"
"We know nothing," interpolated Trenmore, "about your system of government or your customs at all. 'Tis ignorant children we are, sir, in respect of all those matters."