It was as if she caught at the enthusiasm of a
connected thought somewhere. 'I might even say it unties,' she added,
encouraged by his nod, 'unties knots--if you follow me.'
'It does, Miss Waghorn. Indeed, it does.' Was this a precursor of the
Brother with the Beard, he wondered? 'Untied knots' would inevitably
start her off. He made up his mind to listen to the tale with interest
for the twentieth time if it came. But it didn't come.
'I am very old and lonely, and _I_ need the best,' she went on
happily, half saying it to herself.
Instantly he took her up--without surprise too. It was like a dream.
'Quite so. The rest, the common stuff----'
'Is good enough----' she chimed in quickly--
'For Fraulein, or for baby, or for mother,' he laughed.
'Or any other,' chuckled Miss Waghorn.
'Who needs a bit of sleep----'
'But yet can do without it----' she carried it on.
Then both together, after a second's pause--
'If they must----' and burst out laughing.
Goodness, how did _she_ know the rhyme? Was it everywhere? Was thought
running loose like wireless messages to be picked up by all who were
in tune for acceptance?
'Well, I never!' he heard her exclaim, 'if that's not a nursery rhyme
of my childhood that I've not heard for sixty years and more! I
declare,' she added with innocent effrontery, 'I've not heard it since
I was ten years old.
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