“Pray what may that be?”
“They call it fumography.”
“Fumography! never heard of it.”
“It is the art of knowing precisely, by examination of the smoke which comes out of the chimney, what your neighbour has for dinner.”
“Upon my soul, if one could send an excuse at a late hour, that might be useful.”
“My friend is quite an adept. He can tell first and second course entremets, and even if the different articles to be put on the table are done to a turn, or not.”
“Now, Mr Simple, what do you think of that?” inquired the captain.
“I think, sir, that it’s all smoke.”
“Bravo, Mr Simple! you’ve said a very good thing.”
So I thought, too; but, as I wasn’t quite sure, I would not laugh till all the rest of the company did.