Sarah Mary Williams.  Sarah's my first name.  Some calls me Sarah, some calls me Mary.” “Oh, that's the way of it?” “Yes'm.” I was feeling better then, but I wished I was out of there, anyway.  I couldn't look up yet. Well, the woman fell to talking about how hard times was, and how poor they had to live, and how the rats was as free as if they owned the place, and so forth and so on, and then I got easy again.  She was right about the rats. You'd see one stick his nose out of a hole in the corner every little while.  She said she had to have things handy to throw at them when she was alone, or they wouldn't give her no peace.  She showed me a bar of lead twisted up into a knot, and said she was a good shot with it generly, but she'd wrenched her arm a day or two ago, and didn't know whether she could throw true now.  But she watched for a chance, and directly banged away at a rat; but she missed him wide, and said “Ouch!” it hurt her arm so.  Then she told me to try for the next one.  I wanted to be getting away before the old man got back, but of course I didn't let on.  I got the thing, and the first rat that showed his nose I let drive, and if he'd a stayed where he was he'd a been a tolerable sick rat.  She said that was first-rate, and she reckoned I would hive the next one.  She went and got the lump of lead and fetched it back, and brought along a hank of yarn which she wanted me to help her with.  I held up my two hands and she put the hank over them, and went on talking about her and her husband's matters.  But she broke off to say: “Keep your eye on the rats.  You better have the lead in your lap, handy.” So she dropped the lump into my lap just at that moment, and I clapped my legs together on it and she went on talking.  But only about a minute. Then she took off the hank and looked me straight in the face, and very pleasant, and says: “Come, now, what's your real name?” “Wh--what, mum?” “What's your real name?  Is it Bill, or Tom, or Bob?--o