ood," said Doc Madison--and laughed. "Well then, the order of
your stage cues will depend on circumstances and what turns up down
there, but we'll start with the Flopper now. First of all, Flopper,
you've got to have a name. What's your real name--what did they decorate
you with at the baptismal font back in the dark ages?"

The Flopper scrubbed at his very dirty chin with a very dirty thumb and
forefinger.

"I dunno," said the Flopper anxiously.

"Well, never mind," said Doc Madison reassuringly. "Maybe you are
blessed above most people--you can pick one out for yourself. What'll it
be?"

The Flopper's thumb and forefinger scratched desperately for a moment,
then his face lighted with inspiration.

"Swipe me!" said he excitedly. "I got it--Jimmy de Squirm."

Doc Madison shook his head gravely.

"No, Flopper, I'm afraid not," he said gently. "That's another weak
point in your interpretation of the role, that I'll come to in a minute.
We'll give you an Irish name by way of charity--it'll help to make your
classical English sound like brogue. We'll call you Coogan--Michael
Coogan--that lets you off with plain Mike in times of stress."

"Swipe me!" said the Flopper, with perfect complacence.

"Glad it pleases you," smiled Doc Madison, "Here's your lay, then.
You've got to remember that you were born crooked and--"

Helena giggled.

"I didn't mean it"--Doc Madison's gray eyes twinkled. "You are waking
up, too, Helena. I mean, Flopper, you've got to remember that you were
born twisted up into the same shape you are in when you hit Needley. You
come from--let's see--we'll have to have a big city where the next door
neighbors pass each other with a vacant stare. Ever been in Chicago?"

"Naw! Wot fer?" said the Flopper, with withering spontaneity. "Noo Yoik
fer mine."

"Well, all right--New York it is, then," agreed Doc Madison. "You're
poor, but respectable--and that brings us to the other point. Before you
go down there, Helena's going to start a little night-school with a
grammar, and teach you to paddle along the fringe of the great American
language so's you won't fall in and get wet all over every time you open
your mouth."

"My!" exclaimed Helena. "Won't that be nice!"

"I hope so," said Doc Madison drily. "And don't run away with the idea
that I'm joking about this--that goes. I don't expect to make a
silver-tongued orator out of you, Flopper, and perhaps not even a
purist--but I hope to eradicate a f