“I’m afraid we can’t stop,” interrupted Dick.
“You see, we have got to hunt up that wretched Dodo, and perhaps we had better be going now.”
“Yes, we must be going now,” chimed in Fidge, jumping up eagerly, for all this rigmarole had been very uninteresting to him.
“Oh, I’m sorry you can’t stay,” said the Sage, in a disappointed voice. “I could have told you such a lot more about myself. You do think I’m clever though, don’t you?” he asked, anxiously.
“Oh, immensely!” said the children, politely.
“Thanks!” said the Sage. “Will you take a few onions with you as a memento of your visit?”
“No thank you,” said Marjorie, hurriedly.
“They would remind you of me,” suggested the Sage, wistfully; “Sage and onions you know.”
“No, thanks,” said Dick, “I’m sure we shall remember you without.”
“Now that’s very kind of you,” said the Sage, “and I’ll do the best I can to help you in your search for the Dodo. Let’s see, where did he say he was going to?”