"Well, then," says Harold, with the air of a guy pleadin' guilty to save his old father. "In the first place, my name is not J. Harold Cuthbert!"
There was no answer from us, and Harold seemed peeved because we had not collapsed at his confession.
"What is it?" I asks, when the silence begin to hurt the ears.
"Trout!" pipes Harold, bitterly. "Joe Trout!"
"Yeh?" says the Kid. "Well, what's the matter with that? What did you can it for?"
"Ha, ha!" hisses Harold, with a "curse you!" giggle. "Where could a man get with a name like that?"
"In the aquarium!" yells the Kid. "I knew you'd fall!"
Harold shakes his head and blows himself to another sigh.
"Imagine a moving picture leading man named Trout!" he goes on. "I changed my name as a sacrifice to the movies, for—"
"Just a minute!" I butts in. "On the level now, where did you get your movin' picture experience?"