“I wish you’d go upstairs,” said my aunt, as she threaded her needle, “and give my compliments to Mr. Dick, and I’ll be glad to know how he gets on with his Memorial .”

I rose with all alacrity, to acquit myself of this commission.

“I suppose,” said my aunt, eyeing me as narrowly as she had eyed the needle in threading it, “you think Mr. Dick a short name, eh?”

“I thought it was rather a short name, yesterday,” I confessed.

“You are not to suppose that he hasn’t got a longer name, if he chose to use it,” said my aunt, with a loftier air. “Babley⁠— Mr. Richard Babley⁠—that’s the gentleman’s true name.”