"Out of his head," she said.
"I wonder," I said, "if he keeps any arithmetic there?"
"Ask him; I'm sure he'd be proud to help you."
"No," I said, "I must plough my weary furrow alone."
"And the guinea-hens," she said, "are still squawking."
"Yes," I said, "isn't it awful?"
"I'll go and stop them," she said.
"It's no good," I said, "I shan't hear them stop."
R.C.L.