“Eh?”      

       Arkwright laughed grimly.     

       “Perhaps you thought of it yourself, then—I'll admit you're capable of it,” he nodded, reaching for a cigar. “But it so happens you hit upon my family's favorite name for me.”      

       “Mary Jane! You mean they actually call you that?”      

       “Yes,” bowed the big fellow, calmly, as he struck a light. “Appropriate!—don't you think?”      

       Calderwell did not answer. He thought he could not.     

       “Well, silence gives consent, they say,” laughed the other. “Anyhow, you must have had some reason for calling me that.”      

       “Arkwright, what does 'M. J.' stand for?” demanded Calderwell.     

       “Oh, is that it?” smiled the man opposite. “Well, I'll own those initials have been something of a puzzle to people. One man declares they're       'Merely Jokes'; but another, not so friendly, says they stand for 'Mostly Jealousy' of more fortunate chaps who have real names for a handle. My small brothers and sisters, discovering, with the usual perspicacity of one's family on such matters, that I never signed, or called myself anything but 'M. J.,' dubbed me 'Mary Jane.' And there you have it.”      

       “Mary Jane! You!”      

       Arkwright smiled oddly.     

       “Oh, well, what's the difference? Would you deprive them of their innocent amusement? And they do so love that 'Mary Jane'! Besides, what's in a name, anyway?” he went on, eyeing the glowing tip of the cigar between his fingers. “'A rose by any other name—'—you've heard that, probably. Names don't always signify, my dear fellow. For instance, I know a 'Billy'—but he's a girl.”      

       Calderwell gave a sudden start.     

       “You don't mean Billy—Neilson?”      

       The other turned sharply.     

       “Do you know Billy Neilson?”      

 Prev. P 5/210 next