“I wouldn’t like to say what you’ve told me and what you haven’t told me, dear. You wag your tongue a good deal faster than what a dog wags its tail.” Mr. Blundell doffed his sombrero and revealed a head of hair that was ridiculously out of keeping with that haystack of a moustache, for it looked as if somebody had unwound the shining black twine from the handle of a cricket bat and tried to wind it again with less than half the quantity. “Now, girlies,” he remonstrated in a fruity voice, “don’t make things uncomfortable all around by arguing. Us men don’t like to see little birdies pecking at one another. That’s right, isn’t it?” This appeal was addressed to Bram, who smiled as politely as he knew how and received in exchange a wink from Mr. Blundell so tremendous as almost to give the impression that he had pulled down the curtain of the compartment window and let it go up again with a snap. “Going far?” he continued genially. “Liverpool.” “By thunder, so are we. The long arm again! You can’t get away from it in this world. My name’s Blundell.” This information was vouchsafed with an elaborate nonchalance. “Unwin U. Blundell,” he added. “I was enjoying the Diorama last night,” Bram said. “It was simply splendid.” “Ah, you were in front? Dainty little show, isn’t it? Instructive, yet at the same time trees amusong as the Froggies say. Bright, but never coarse. Rich, but never ostentatious. Funny thing, I suppose I’ve knocked about the world more than most of us have, and yet I’ve always set my face against anything the teeniest tottiest little bit coarse. Did you notice I said my name was Unwin U. Blundell? Got me, as our cousins the Americanos say? The initials by themselves would be coarse, and my entertainment is refined from start to finish.” One of the Sisters Garibaldi giggled. “Now, Clara,” he said severely. “By the way, permit me, Miss Clara Garibaldi, Miss Mona Garibaldi, Mr....” “Bram Fuller.” “No relation to Fuller’s Fireworks, I suppose?” Bram explained that he was. “By Jenkins, the long arm again! Why, only last week at Burton-on-Trent I used a packet of Fuller’s squibs for the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. But I had to give it up. Yes, I found it frightened the women and children too much. They were so shook by the effect that when the moon rose behind the Alhambra they thought _that_ was going off with a bang and started screaming again, so the fandango went rotten.” “It certainly did,” the Sisters Garibaldi agreed in a huffy chorus. “Coming back to my name,” said Mr. Blundell. “What do you think my second name is? I’ll give you a sovereign if you can guess it in three. That offer’s on tap to any stranger with who I have the pleasure of a heart to heart. Give it up? I thought you would. Ursula!” “But that’s a girl’s name, isn’t it?” Bram said in astonishment.