"None at all. It's as good a name for me as any other you could call me
by. But may I ask you a question in the corner here?"

Lamps suffered himself to be led aside from his daughter's couch by one
of the buttons of his velveteen jacket.

"Is this the bedside where you sing your songs?"

Lamps nodded.

The gentleman for Nowhere clapped him on the shoulder, and they faced
about again.

"Upon my word, my dear," said Lamps then to his daughter, looking from
her to her visitor, "it is such an amaze to me, to find you brought
acquainted with this gentleman, that I must (if this gentleman will
excuse me) take a rounder."

Mr. Lamps demonstrated in action what this meant, by pulling out his oily
handkerchief rolled up in the form of a ball, and giving himself an
elaborate smear, from behind the right ear, up the cheek, across the
forehead, and down the other cheek to behind his left ear. After this
operation he shone exceedingly.

"It's according to my custom when particular warmed up by any agitation,
sir," he offered by way of apology. "And really, I am throwed into that
state of amaze by finding you brought acquainted with Phoebe, that I--that
I think I will, if you'll excuse me, take another rounder." Which he
did, seeming to be greatly restored by it.