"Who are you?" asked the girl.
He looked up at her calmly. His face was round and chubby and his
eyes were big, blue and earnest.
"I'm Button-Bright," said he.
"But what's your real name?" she inquired.
"Button-Bright."
"That isn't a really-truly name!" she exclaimed.
"Isn't it?" he asked, still digging.
"'Course not. It's just a--a thing to call you by. You must have a name."
"Must I?"
"To be sure. What does your mama call you?"
He paused in his digging and tried to think.
"Papa always said I was bright as a button; so mama always called me
Button-Bright," he said.
"What is your papa's name?"
"Just Papa."
"What else?"
"Don't know."
"Never mind," said the shaggy man, smiling. "We'll call the boy
Button-Bright, as his mama does. That name is as good as any,
and better than some."
Dorothy watched the boy dig.
"Where do you live?" she asked.
"Don't know," was the reply.
"How did you come here?"
"Don't know," he said again.
"Don't you know where you came from?"
"No," said he.
"Why, he must be lost," she said to the shaggy man. She turned
to the boy once more.
"What are you going to do?" she inquired.
"Dig," said he.
"But you can't dig forever; and what are you going to do then?"
she persisted.
"Don't know," said the boy.
"But you MUST know SOMETHING," declared Dorothy, getting provoked.
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