GUNNER. _[with unexpected aggressiveness]_ My name isnt Brown.
_[They stare at him: he meets their stare defiantly, pugnacious with
sloe gin; drains the last drop from his glass; throws it on the
sideboard; and advances to the writing table]._ My name's Baker:
Julius Baker. Mister Baker. If any man doubts it, I'm ready for him.

MRS TARLETON. John: you shouldnt have given him that sloe gin. It's
gone to his head.

GUNNER. Dont you think it. Fruit beverages dont go to the head; and
what matter if they did? I say nothing to you, maam: I regard you
with respect and affection. _[Lachrymosely]_ You were very good to
my mother: my poor mother! _[Relapsing into his daring mood]_ But I
say my name's Baker; and I'm not to be treated as a child or made a
slave of by any man. Baker is my name. Did you think I was going to
give you my real name? Not likely. Not me.

TARLETON. So you thought of John Brown. That was clever of you.

GUNNER. Clever! Yes: we're not all such fools as you think: we
clerks. It was the bookkeeper put me up to that. It's the only name
that nobody gives as a false name, he said. Clever, eh? I should
think so.

MRS TARLETON. Come now, Julius--

GUNNER. _[reassuring her gravely]_ Dont you be alarmed, maam. I
know what is due to you as a lady and to myself as a gentleman. I
regard you with respect and affection. If you had been my mother, as