"Without; you mummy," retorted Peter.
"You surprise me, Peter," said Cobb, as he was testing one of the faucets; "the last time I saw you, you looked as if you hadn't touched water in years."
"Once a year then; once a day now; three hundred and sixty-five days in the year," said Peter, grinning.
"I always believed you had some redeeming qualities," said Cobb; "but how does it come you have clean water?" he asked, holding up a glassful between his eyes and the light.
"Private filter," answered the king.
"That's infernal water to turn into the public trough," remarked Cobb. "I mean this, before it was filtered," pointing to the glassful still in his hand.
"It's all they deserve," said the king, snapping his eyes.
"When ought we to work them for a new system?" asked Cobb, emptying the glass. "Pretty decent water, this—when filtered," he observed, washing his hands.
"We'll talk about water systems when we get back to business," answered the king.
"Do you wash your feet in water or alcohol?" asked the ghost.