"What is your aunt's name?" inquired Jimmy Toppan.

"Hannah J. Pettingell."

"Isn't that too long a name?"

"Too long? 'Taint as long as the 'Abbie and Elizabeth Sweetser'
that I went out to Calcutta in, summer of '68. And yer see I could
use some of them letters,--the H, an' the P, an' the G,--but not
all of 'em."

"I don't think I like that name as well as 'Hoppergrass,'" said
Jimmy.

"Anything's better'n that," replied the Captain, decidedly.
"Besides, my aunt was a sort of benefactor of mine,--she always
said I was her fav'rite nephew."

"Is she dead?"

"Died seven year ago this spring, while I was in New Orleans. She
left me her second best ear-trumpet,--she was deef as a post. She
had two of 'em. One was a rubber toob sort of thing,--pretty nigh
four foot long. She only used that on Sundays, an' when the
minister called. She left me the other, an' I've got it to home,
over the parlor mantelpiece."

I remembered seeing it there, when I had called on the Captain. He
lived all alone on West Injy Lane, in a house full of cats and