172
The Zankiwank
mimically for money, but as it was washing day they were refused. So they went into the cook shop and had some Irish Stew, which did not agree with them. Consequently they sprang into the hash that was simmering on the fire, and were seen no more. Whereupon the Zankiwank looked gooseberrily out of his eyes and murmured as if nothing out of the way or in the way had happened, or the Phœnix or the Griffin had existed—“The Bletherwitch will send me a telegram to say that she will be ready for the ceremony in half-an-hour.”
“But where is the Bletherwitch, and how do you know?” asked Maude, somewhat incredulously.
“She is being arrayed for the marriage cclebration. At present she is in Spain gathering Spanish onions.”
“But Spanish onions don’t come from Spain!”
“You are right. It is pickled walnuts she is gathering from the Boot Tree in the scullery. However, that is of no consequence. Let us be joyful as befits the occasion. Who has got any crackers?”
