Why should we Gaylords be above all the others, and why should I throw away the few short minutes I have to breathe in this world, throw it away on family pride and a seven-letter name? Gaylord. Gaylord. GAYLORD. A sound like an elm tree full of katydids.
He smiled often, he could make his knuckles crack like pistol shots, and he had the courtesy to address him as Gaylord, and not by some ridiculous title of his own.