He remembered that once the milk-and-eggs boy had asked what to call him; and his father had laughed and answered: "I don't see but you'll have to call me 'The Old Man of the Mountain,' as they do down in the village." That was the only time David could recollect hearing his father say anything about his name.

At the time David had not thought much about it.

But since then, down here where they appeared to think a name was so important, he had wondered if possibly his father had not preferred to keep his to himself.

If such were the case, he was glad now that he did not know this name, so that he might not have to tell all these inquisitive people who asked so many questions about it.

He was glad, too, that those men had not been able to read his father's name at the end of his other note that first morning--if his father really did not wish his name to be known.
"But, David, think.