All this time the old gentleman seemed quite unconscious of my existence. But I was not hurt by that. I was well used to being overlooked when Billy was with me, and never questioned for a moment the justice of the arrangement. But now the old gentleman seemed to recollect himself.
"What was it you asked me just now?" said he.
"We asked if you would mind telling us the time."
"Ha, just so. Now are you quite sure that what you asked for is what you want? You said 'the time' not 'time.' For you must know, my dears, that there's a great difference between 'time' and 'the time.'"
Billy and I looked at each other, perplexed and disgusted—perplexed by the subtle distinction just drawn by the old gentleman; disgusted at being addressed as "my dears." ("He might as well have given us a kiss while he was about it," we thought.)
"We want the time, if you please," we said at length.
"What, the whole of it?" said the old gentleman.
"No," answered Billy, "we only want the bit of it that's going on now."
"Which bit is that?" said our venerable friend.
"That's just what we want to know," answered Billy.