"
"Of course one couldn't!" echoed Arthur. "Any more than one could
argue with a potato. It would be altogether--excuse the ancient
pun--infra dig.!"
"I doubt it," said I. "Even a pun doesn't quite convince me."
"Well, if that is not the reason," said Lady Muriel, "what reason would
you give?"
I tried hard to understand the meaning of this question: but the
persistent humming of the bees confused me, and there was a drowsiness
in the air that made every thought stop and go to sleep before it had
got well thought out: so all I could say was "That must depend on the
weight of the potato."
I felt the remark was not so sensible as I should have liked it to be.
But Lady Muriel seemed to take it quite as a matter of course.
"In that case--" she began, but suddenly started, and turned away to
listen. "Don't you hear him?" she said. "He's crying. We must go to
him, somehow."
And I said to myself "That's very strange.
I quite thought it was Lady Muriel talking to me. Why, it's Sylvie all
the while!" And I made another great effort to say something that
should have some meaning in it. "Is it about the potato?"
CHAPTER 21.
THROUGH THE IVORY DOOR.
"I don't know," said Sylvie. "Hush! I must think. I could go to him,
by myself, well enough. But I want you to come too."
"Let me go with you," I pleaded. "I can walk as fast as you can,
I'm sure."
Sylvie laughed merrily. "What nonsense!" she cried.
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