destly) one cannot say why--to bequeath to me, yet the use of
the name Wurzel-Flummery would be excessively awkward.
CLIFTON (cheerfully). Excessively.
CRAWSHAW. My object in seeing you was to inquire if it was absolutely
essential that the name should go with the money.
CLIFTON. Well (thoughtfully), you may have the name _without_ the money
if you like. But you must have the name.
CRAWSHAW (disappointed). Ah! (Bravely) Of course, I have nothing against
the name, a good old Hampshire name--
CLIFTON (shocked). My dear Mr. Crawshaw, you didn't think--you didn't
really think that anybody had been called Wurzel-Flummery before? Oh no,
no. You and Mr. Meriton were to be the first, the founders of the clan,
the designers of the Wurzel-Flummery sporran--
CRAWSHAW. What do you mean, sir? Are you telling me that it is not a
real name at all?
CLIFTON. Oh, it's a name all right. I know it is because--er--_I_ made
it up.
CRAWSHAW (outraged). And you have the impudence to propose, sir, that I
should take a made-up name?
CLIFTON (soothingly). Well, all names are made up some time or other.
Somebody had to think of--Adam.
CRAWSHAW. I warn you, Mr. Clifton, that I do not allow this trifling
with serious subjects.
CLIFTON. It's all so simple, really.... You see, my Uncle Antony was a
rather unusual man. He despised money. He was not afraid to put it in
its proper place. The place he put it in was--er--a little below golf
and a little above classical concerts. If a man said to him, "Would
you like to make fifty thousand this afternoon?" he would say--well,
it would depend what he was doing. If he were going to have a round at
Walton Heath--
CRAWSHAW. It's perfectly scandalous to talk of money in this way.
CLIFTON. Well, that's how he talked about it. But he didn't find many to
agree with him. In fact, he used to say that there was nothing, however
contemptible, that a man would not do for money. One day I suggested
that if he left a legacy with a sufficiently foolish name attached to
it, somebody might be found to refuse it. He laughed at the idea. That
put me on my mettle. "Two people," I said; "leave the same silly name to
two people, two well-known people, rival politicians, say, men whose own
names are already public property. Surely they wouldn't both take it."
That touched him. "Denis, my boy, you've got it," he said. "Upon what
vile bodies shall we experiment?" We decided on you and Mr. Meriton. The
n
|