Annette, then, opened Basil's mind, and let in knowledge. She showed him how to snare game, which abounded in vast quantities, snipe, quail, and numerous varieties of duck, of which the whistling duck is the most curious, and the black duck the best eating; she taught him the names of the strange and beautiful birds which found their home in the scrub and forests round about; she described to him the different trees which grew in the neighbourhood of the beautiful Pioneer River, and would not rest contented till he was familiar with them, and could give them their right names.
"What is this, Basil?"
"What is this, Annette? Why, a tree."
"But what kind of tree?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon. Ha--hum--oh, yes, it is the tea-tree."
"It is not, Basil. It is the bottle-tree."
"Well, the bottle-tree. Of course it is the bottle-tree. How could I be so stupid?"
"You are not stupid; you are inattentive. Do you see this hole cut in the tree?"
"Of course I do."
"I will not have that answer. 'Of course I do' sounds as if I had no right to ask the question. Say 'I do.'"