“Oh, there isn’t any maybe about it. This one was an idiot.”
“Well, yes—he could have been. He was suspected.”
“Suspected!” said Sally, with irritation. “Would one suspect there was going to be a dark time if he saw the constellations fall out of the sky? But that is enough about the idiot, I don’t take any interest in idiots; tell me about the son.”
“Very well, then, this one was the eldest, but not the favorite. His brother, Zylobalsamum—”
“Wait—give me a chance to realize that. It is perfectly stupefying. Zylo—what did you call it?”
“Zylobalsamum.”
“I never heard such a name: It sounds like a disease. Is it a disease?”
“No, I don’t think it’s a disease. It’s either Scriptural or—”
“Well, it’s not Scriptural.”
“Then it’s anatomical. I knew it was one or the other. Yes, I remember, now, it is anatomical. It’s a ganglion—a nerve centre—it is what is called the zylobalsamum process.”