“You have a Christian name, haven’t you? I want to have a name for you that other people don’t use—not to have to call you after a place, like a king in Shakespeare. Do you think Cordelia called her husband ‘France’?”
“My Christian name is Edmund,” said Usk gravely.
“Oh, and Edmund in ‘King Lear’ is so horrible! I couldn’t call you that.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a family name, you see. But as you’re such a Shakespearean scholar, have you ever read ‘Henry V.’?”
“I don’t think so. No; I’m sure I haven’t. But I will, as soon as I get home.”
“Oh no; you needn’t,” hastily. “There’s a fellow in that called Nym—a delightful person—and Nym was short for Edmund, you know. That’s a name you can have quite to yourself, if you like it.”
“Yes; I like it. But I shall only use it when we are alone, lest other people should find it out. Nym!—I believe it is the name of a horrid person after all,” as Usk smiled involuntarily. “Then I shall call you by it all the same, just to punish you. Well, Nym, do you still think you must go away soon?”
“Not without you. I shall want you to help me with my election when I get back to England. I’m sure I could never get through it alone.”
“Oh, do you mean that I may help you—really help you—in your parliamentary work? What may I do? I know so little.”
“Oh, you can help me with my speeches—look up references, and that sort of thing,” said Usk vaguely. “And you could canvass, of course.”