"Oh, Giggles!" said the Young Doctor with a quick smile.

The old man shook his head: "No, that ain't the name. It's Guise-Orlando
Guise is the name."

"Same thing," remarked the Young Doctor. "They call him Giggles for
short. You've seen him of course?"

"No, I've been dealing with him so far through a third party. Why's he
called Giggles?" asked the Master of Tralee.

"Well, you'll know when you see him. He's not cut according to
everybody's measure. If you're dealing with him, don't think him a fool
because he chirrups, and don't size him up according to his looks. He's
a dude. Some call him The Duke, but mostly he's known as Giggles."

"Fools weary me," grumbled the other.

"Well, as I said, you mustn't begin dealing with him on the basis of his
looks. Looks don't often tell the truth. For instance, you're known as
a Christian and a Methodist!" He looked the old man slowly up and down,
and in anyone else it would have seemed gross insolence, but the urbane
smile at his lips belied the malice of his words. "Well, you know you
don't look like a Methodist. You look like,"--innocence showed in his
eye; there was no ulterior purpose in his face, "you look like one of the
bad McMahon lot of claim-jumpers over there in the foothills. I suppose
that seems so, only because ranchman aren't generally pious. Well, in
the same way, Giggles doesn't really look like a ranchman; but he's every
bit as good a ranchman as you are a Christian and a Methodist!"