The boy had again stopped to stare, this time at what could have been a clock, if it had offered even a small means to display the time. "Be careful, uh-" said the man.
  "Barry."
  "Where ya from?" asked the man.
  "Hmm. Where am I?"
  "Oh, one of those. My name's Dwellingham."
  "Mole!" exclaimed the boy in a sudden burst.
  "Yes, Aaron. Some penniless patrons use that hideous moniker, and if enough people call you something, that's your name. I lean towards Mol-ay, you know the Spanish pronunciation."