"They can run, though, little master," said the girl. She had a curiously soft voice, Percival noticed. But he was rather puzzled with it all and remained serious. "Is your name funny, too?" he asked the little man. The little man's tight lips were stretched in what Percival came to know for his most advanced sign of amusement. He opened his lips very slightly when he spoke, and the short pipe that seemed to grow there did not appear at all to incommode his speech. "Why, try it for thyself," said the little man,--"Japhra." "Well, I've not heard it before, you know," said Percival politely. "You don't mind my asking questions, do you?" he added. "This is rather funny to me, you know." "Why, I'm a questioner myself, little master," the little man assured him. "I'm questioning always. I go through life seeking an answer." "What for?" asked Percival. "Why, that's the question, little master," said the little man. "What for? Who knows?" Percival regarded him with the same puzzled air that he sometimes gave to Aunt Maggie. "Well, if you don't mind," he said, "what are you, then?" Far from minding, Japhra seemed to like it. Twinkling away: "Why, that's another question I ask and cannot answer," said he. "What is any man? One thing to one man and one thing to another--a riddle to himself, little master. But I can unriddle thee this much: Wintertime I am a tinker that mends folks' pots and pans; Springtimes I am Punch-and-Judy-man that makes the children laugh; Summertimes I am a fighter that fights in the booths. I have been prize-fighter that fights with the knuckle; cattleman over the sea; jockey, and wrestler, and miner, and preacher once, and questioner since I was thy size; there's unriddling for thee." "It's a good lot," said Percival gravely. "What are you just now, please?" "Or a bad lot," said Japhra. "Who knows?--and there's the question again! No escape from it." He looked solemn for a moment and then twinkled again. "Just now a fighter, little master. To-morrow I join Boss Maddox's circus for the summer with my boxing booth." "Boss Maddox!" cried Percival. "Why, Mr. Stingo goes with Maddox's circus. Do you know Mr. Stingo?" "None better," said Japhra. "I am of Stingo's crowd, as we say. Dost thou?" "I know him very well," Percival declared. "I know his brother best. They call me a Pocket Marvel, you know; so I should like to know what you think of that?" "Why, I think that's what thou art," said Japhra. "A rare one. There were fairies at thy christening, little master." "What for?" asked Percival and asked it so seriously that Japhra twinkled anew and replied: "Why, there's the question again. What for? Why that sunny face they have given thee? and those fine limbs? and that straight back? What for? There's some purpose in it, little master."