"Of coorse," he nodded.
"Officially I am doing Coalition work," I continued conversationally, "but I have motives of my own."
"You don't say!"
"Oh, yes. I am a great admirer of Lord Fisher and the Blue Water school, sometimes spoken of as the Blue Funk school. Again, I find that the Great War has left many people in the blues, and by means of homeopathy I cure 'em; I mean to say that they come to their doors and laugh at my blue bike. My blue dispels their blues."
The old man did not seem to follow this.
"Of course," I went on, "the Bluebells of Scotland have something to do with my selection of the colour."
"A verra nice sang," he commented.
"An excellent song! Then there is the well-known phrase 'Once in a Blue Moon,' and innumerable songs about the pale moonlight. Also I once knew a man who had the blue devils."
I tried to think of other phases of blueness, but my stock was almost exhausted.
"Of course," I added, "I am not forgetting the other blues, the Oxford blues, Reckitt's Blue, Blue Coupons, and—and—I'm afraid I can't think of any other blues just at the moment."