"I like it."
"You haven't always called her Sally Jane, have you?"
"Not always. I used to call her Mariar. My auntie says Mariar sounds like a cat talking, but I liked it till I heard Sally Jane, then I liked Sally Jane best."
"And when did you hear the name Sally Jane?"
"Long, long ago."
"Oh!" Disappointment on the part of Billy Wingo. Farewell, hunch. Nevertheless he essayed a forlorn hope. "How long?"
"Most a week."
Most a week! Billy had forgotten that child-time runs faster than grown-up time. The hunch pricked up its little ears and began to return. "Where did you hear that name?"
"Man in the Carnation. He was drunk, and he went round talking to God in the saloon. I heard him through the window. Lots of men do that. My Auntie says they'll frizzle when they die."
"They ought to," pronounced the righteously indignant Bill. "Did this man say anything, about Sally Jane?"