“Yes. I never go to bed at all, because I’m ninety-nine.”
“You aren’t,” said Daisy. “You’re a corpse.”
“Oh, Daisy, don’t be stupid!” said Jim. “That’s finished. Hughie’s going to tell us a story.”
“Will it be silly?” asked Daisy anxiously.
“I can’t tell. It depends on internal evidence,” said Hugh.
Daisy sighed.
“I don’t know what that means,” she said.
“Nor do I,” said Hugh. “I’m a corpse, I am. You said so.”
“Oh, shut up!” said Jim, bounding up and down. “Now begin, Hugh. A minute’s gone.”
Hugh was far too sensible and serious to waste more of the time of the children, which is so infinitely precious when bedtime looms like a thunder-cloud, and began.