ndicated the Tyro with a scornful gesture.
"Oh," she added, noting the other's obvious bewilderment, "I see you
didn't know his real name."

"I? I've known him and his name all his life."

"And it isn't Daddleskink?"

The learned archaeologist lapsed against the rail and gave way to wild
mirth. "Wh--where on earth d-d-did you gu-gu-get such a notion?" he
quavered, when he could speak.

"He told me, himself."

"I? Never!" The Tyro's face was as that of a babe for innocence.

"_You--didn't--tell--me--your--name--was--Daddleskink?_"

"Certainly not. I simply asked if you didn't think it a misfortune to be
named Daddleskink, and you jumped to the conclusion that it was my name
and my misfortune."

"Perhaps you didn't tell me, either, that your friends called you
'Smith,'" she said ominously.

"So they do."

"Why should they call you 'Smith' if your name isn't Daddleskink?" she
demanded, with an effect of unanswerable logic.

"Because my name _is_ Smith."

"Permit me to present," said Lord Guenn, who had been quietly but
joyously appreciative of the duel, "my ancestral friend, Mr. Alexander
Forsyth Smith."

"Why didn't you tell me your real name?" Little Miss Grouch's offended
regard was fixed upon the Tyro.

"Well, you remember, you made fun of the honorable cognomen of Smith
when we first met."

"That is no excuse."

"And you were mysterious as an owl about your own identity."

"I could see no occasion for revealing it." The delicately modeled nose
was now quite far in the air.

"So I thought I'd furnish a really interesting name for you to amuse
yourself with. I'm sorry you don't care for it."

Little Miss Grouch's limpid and lofty consideration passed from the
anxious physiognomy of the speaker to the mirthful countenances of the
other three.

"I'm not sure that I shall ever speak to any of you again," she stated,
and, turning her back, marched away from them with lively resentment
expressed in every supple line of her figure.

"Young man," said Judge Enderby to his client, as the male quartette,
thus cavalierly dismissed, passed on, "will you take the advice of an
old man?"

"Have I paid for it?" inquired the Tyro.

"You have not. Gratis advice, this. The most valuable kind."

"Shoot, sir."

"Don't let two blades of grass grow under your feet where one grew
before."

"But--"

"--me no buts. Half an hour I give you. If you haven't found the young
lady in that time I discard you."