"I didn't mean it was really funny," George explained. "That's just
one of my crowd's bits of horsing at college. We always say 'funny
name' no matter what it is. I guess we're pretty fresh sometimes; but
I knew your name was Morgan because my mother said so downstairs. I
meant: what's the rest of it?"

"Lucy."

He was silent.

"Is 'Lucy' a funny name, too?" she inquired.

"No. Lucy's very much all right!" he said, and he went so far as to
smile. Even his Aunt Fanny admitted that when George smiled "in a
certain way" he was charming.

"Thanks about letting my name be Lucy," she said.

"How old are you?" George asked.

"I don't really know, myself."

"What do you mean: you don't really know yourself?"

"I mean I only know what they tell me. I believe them, of course, but
believing isn't really knowing. You believe some certain day is your
birthday--at least, I suppose you do--but you don't really know it is
because you can't remember."

"Look here!" said George. "Do you always talk like this?"