"By the by, sir; Mr. Bossolton asked me what name he should put down
in his book for the medicines; what would you please me to say, sir?"

"Mr. who?" said the youth, elevating his eyebrows.

"Mr. Bossolton, sir, the apothecary."

"Oh! Bossolton! very odd name that,--not near so pretty as--dear me,
what a beautiful cap that is of yours!" said the young gentleman.

"Lord, sir, do you think so? The ribbon is pretty enough; but--but,
as I was saying, what name shall I tell Mr. Bossolton to put in his
book?" "This," thought Mrs. Taptape, "is coming to the point."

"Well!" said the youth, slowly, and as if in a profound reverie,
"well, Bossolton is certainly the most singular name I ever heard; he
does right to put it in a book: it is quite a curiosity! is he
clever?"

"Very, sir," said the landlady, somewhat sharply; "but it is your
name, not his, that he wishes to put into his book."

"Mine?" said the youth, who appeared to have been seeking to gain time
in order to answer a query which most men find requires very little
deliberation, "mine, you say; my name is Linden--Clarence Linden--you
understand?"

"What a pretty name!" thought the landlady's daughter, who was
listening at the keyhole; "but how could he admire that odious cap of
Ma's!"