"They might not make very complimentary remarks, perhaps," said Alice.
"If they thought of me at all I should be satisfied," said he.
"Couldn't you invent an iron bed, then?" said Miss Adamson, looking at a representation of these articles hanging alongside the three royal ladies. "Perhaps they'll last three hundred years, and if you could bind yourself up with the idea of sweet repose—"
"They won't last three hundred years," said Lady Arthur—"cheap and nasty, new-fangled things!"
"They maybe cheap and nasty," said George, "but new-fangled they are not: they must be some thousands of years old. I am afraid, my dear aunt, you don't read your Bible."
"Don't drag the Bible in among your nonsense. What has it to do with iron beds?" said Lady Arthur.
"If you look into Deuteronomy, third chapter and eleventh verse," said he "you'll find that Og, king of Bashar used an iron bed. It is probably in existence yet, and it must be quite old enough to make it worth your while to look after it: perhaps Mr. Cook would personally conduct you, or if not I should be glad to be your escort."
"Thank you," she said: "when I go in search of Og's bed I'll take you with me."
"You could not do better: I have the scent of a sleuth-hound for antiquities."
As they were speaking a man came and hung up beside the queens and the iron beds a big white board on which were printed in large black letters the words, "My Mother and I"—nothing more.