your own meaning you would not want anybody else to be meaning anything! What a lot of trouble that would save! I’ll ask the Jackarandajam to make one for me—why, here he is!”
The children recognised the Jackarandajam immediately and shook hands with him.
“I am so glad to see you all. I have just been suffering from a most severe attack of Inspiration.”
“How very inexplicable—I beg your pardon,” moaned the Zankiwank. “It is a little difficult, but it is, I believe, a strictly proper word—though I do not pretend to know its meaning.”
The Jackarandajam accepted the apology by gracefully bowing, though neither felt quite at ease.
“What is the use of saying things you don’t mean?” asked Maude.
“None at all, that is the best of it, because we are always doing something without any reason.”
To attempt to argue with the Zankiwank Maude knew was futile, so she merely enquired how the Jackarandajam felt after his attack of Inspiration, and what he took for it.
