Oh, it was so funny!" "Billy, my-my dear," remonstrated Uncle William, mildly.
"But what _is_ his name ?" demanded Cyril.
"Did the creature sign himself 'Mary Jane' ?" exploded Bertram.
"I don't know his name, except that it's 'M.

J.'-- and that's how he signed the letters.

But he _is_ called 'Mary Jane' sometimes, and in the letter he quoted somebody's speech--I've forgotten just how--but in it he was called 'Mary Jane,' and, of course, Aunt Hannah took him for a girl," explained Billy, grown a little more coherent now.
"Didn't he write again ?" asked William.
"Yes." "Well, why didn't he correct the mistake, then ?" demanded Bertram.
Billy chuckled.
"He didn't want to, I guess.

He thought it was too good a joke." "Joke!" scoffed Cyril.
"But, see here, Billy, he isn't going to live here--now ?" Bertram's voice was almost savage.
"Oh, no, he isn't going to live here--now," interposed smooth tones from the doorway.
"Mr .-- Arkwright!" breathed Billy, confusedly.
Three crimson-faced men sprang to their feet.

The situation, for a moment, threatened embarrassed misery for all concerned; but Arkwright, with a cheery smile, advanced straight toward Bertram, and held out a friendly hand.
"The proverbial fate of listeners," he said easily; "but I don't blame you at all.