“If you wish to learn that a great number of years ago a vast quantity of inconsequent events occurred, or that in an otherwise amusing enough world there are here and there collected so many roomfuls of cheerless articles, I can strongly recommend a visit to the Tower of London or the British Museum.”
“In mine own gontry,” said the Baron, thoughtfully, “I can lairn zo moch.”
“Then, my dear Baron, while you are here forget it all.”
“And yet,” said the Baron, still thoughtfully, “somzing I should lairn here.”
“Certainly; you will learn something of what goes on underneath a waistcoat and a little of the contents of a corset and petticoat. Also of the strange customs of this city and the excellence of British institutions.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Baron, who thought that if his friend had not actually made a jest, it was at least time for one to occur. “I see, I see. I draw ze moral, ha, ha!”
“This morning,” Mr Bunker continued, reflectively, “we might—let me see—well, we might do a little shopping. To tell you the truth, Baron, my South African experiences have somewhat exhausted my wardrobe.”
“Ach, zo. Cairtainly ve vill shop. Bot, Bonker, Soud Africa? Vas it not Soud America?”
“Did I say Africa? America of course I meant. Well, let us shop if you have no objections: then we might have a little lunch, and afterwards visit the Park. For the evening, what do you say to a theatre?”
“Goot!” cried the Baron. “Make it tzos.”