The Triple Alliance, Its Trials and Triumphs by Harold Avery

“What’s your name?”

“Diggory Trevanock.”

The whole class exploded.

“Now, then,” said Mr. Blake, looking up from his mark-book with a broad grin on his own face—”now, then, there’s nothing to laugh at.—Look here,” he added, turning to the new boy, “how d’you spell it?”

Instead of being at all annoyed or disconcerted at the mirth of his class-mates, the youngster seemed rather to enjoy the joke, and immediately rattled out a semi-humorous reply to the master’s question,—

“D I G, dig; G O R Y, gory—Diggory: T R E, tre; VAN, van; O C K, ock—Trevanock.” Then turning round, he smiled complacently at the occupants of the desks behind, as much as to say: “There, I’ve done all I can to amuse you, and I hope you’re satisfied.”