here he was he would ask a question or two for the satisfaction of it, and put the first one, thus:
"Say, youngsters, what's your name?"
"Tom, Dick, and Harry. That's me," answered the latter, placing his arms akimbo, the better to stare at the questioner, it seemed.
"The mischief! Saucy, aren't you!" rejoined the newcomer.
"And the baby. That's Penelope," added Tom, with his usual precise gravity.
"Tom, Dick, and Harry, and the baby; a hopeful lot of you. All right. So much for first names, though I don't believe they're genuine. Give us the last name and be quick about it," ordered this odd man.
"Our name is Smith. That's our father's name and our mother's. Why? Do they owe you something? 'Cause if they do, I wish, I wish you'd please go away, quick as a wink, and not let them know you've been here. My father can't help it. He—something got wrong with the business, and I've heard them talk lots of times. They"—explained Tom.
