bath,' he said. He looked as if he were saying something dreadfully wicked as he said it.
'But at what hour of the day do people have baths in Slumpanugger?' I asked, feeling that it was just as well to know.
'Just whenever you happen to call,' replied Berengaria, looking as if she had said something rather clever.
'But when do you happen to call?' I persisted, feeling horribly dense, but determined to get at least some definite information somewhere.
'Between twelve and two,' said Berengaria, as she sipped her tea. She was looking at me with an amused smile over the edge of her cup. I felt there was something further I ought to understand. But I didn't.
'What an extraordinary time to have a bath,' I murmured.
John rose to put down my cup.
'But they are not really having baths,' he explained diffidently.
'Then why on earth do they say they are?' I cried, refusing more tea and feeling real puzzled.
'Well, you see, you can't exactly expect to see anyone in a bath,' Berengaria said. John quite blushed.
'Naturally,' I laughed. 'But if they are not really in their baths?'
'It comes to much the same thing if they say they are. You can't persist in seeing them.'
Berengaria was evidently a logician of sorts.
'But don't people want to see you when you call
