“So will our fruits and vegetables, Sam.”
“Nay, Master Norman, never. The syle won’t suit, sir, nor the country, nor the time, nor nothing.”
“Nonsense!”
“Nay, sir, ’tain’t nonsense. The whole place here’s topsy-turvy like. Why, it’s Christmas in about a fortnit’s time, and are you going to tell me this is Christmas weather? Why, it’s hot as Horgus.”
“Well, that’s because we’re so far south.”
“That we ain’t, sir. We’re just as far north as we are south, and you can’t get over that.”
“But it’s because we’ve crossed the line,” cried Rifle. “Don’t you remember I told you ever so long ago that we were just crossing the line?”
“Oh yes, I remember; but I knew you was gammoning me. I never see no line?”
“Of course not. It’s invisible.”
“What? Then you couldn’t cross it. If a thing’s inwisible, it’s because it ain’t there, and you can’t cross a thing as ain’t there.”