What's your Chris'en name ?' 'Edwin.' 'Edwin, Edwin, Edwin,' she repeats, trailing off into a drowsy repetition of the word; and then asks suddenly: 'Is the short of that name Eddy ?' 'It is sometimes called so,' he replies, with the colour starting to his face.
'Don't sweethearts call it so ?' she asks, pondering.
'How should I know ?' 'Haven't you a sweetheart, upon your soul ?' 'None.' She is moving away, with another 'Bless ye, and thank'ee, deary!' when he adds: 'You were to tell me something; you may as well do so.' 'So I was, so I was.

Well, then.

Whisper.

You be thankful that your name ain't Ned.' He looks at her quite steadily, as he asks: 'Why ?' 'Because it's a bad name to have just now.' 'How a bad name ?' 'A threatened name.

A dangerous name.' 'The proverb says that threatened men live long,' he tells her, lightly.
'Then Ned--so threatened is he, wherever he may be while I am a-talking to you, deary--should live to all eternity!' replies the woman.
She has leaned forward to say it in his ear, with her forefinger shaking before his eyes, and now huddles herself together, and with another 'Bless ye, and thank'ee!' goes away in the direction of the Travellers' Lodging House.
This is not an inspiriting close to a dull day.