“Couldn’t have you in the house anyway. It wouldn’t be right.”
THE BARN WILL BE QUITE ADEQUATE, I ASSURE YOU.
“But you can come into the house for your meals.”
THANK YOU.
“My name’s Miss Flitworth.”
YES.
She waited.
“I expect you have a name, too,” she prompted.
YES. THAT’S RIGHT.
She waited again.
“Well?”
I’M SORRY?
“What is your name?”
The stranger stared at her for a moment, and then looked around wildly.
“Come on,” said Miss Flitworth. “I ain’t employing no one without no name. Mr…?”
The figure stared upward.
MR. SKY?
“No one’s called Mr. Sky.”
MR…. DOOR?
She nodded.
“Could be. Could be Mr. Door. There was a chap called Doors I knew once. Yeah. Mr. Door. And your first name? Don’t tell me you haven’t got one of those too. You’ve got to be a Bill or a Tom or a Bruce or one of those names.”
YES.
“What?”
ONE OF THOSE.
“Which one?”
ER. THE FIRST ONE?
“You’re a Bill?”
YES?
Miss Flitworth rolled her eyes.
“All right, Bill Sky…” she said.