“It’s quite simple really,” said Tuppence kindly. “It’s just a sort of knack. Let me have it.”
Tommy surrendered it willingly. Tuppence ensconced herself in an arm chair, and began muttering to herself with bent brows.
“It’s quite simple really,” murmured Tommy when half an hour had elapsed.
“Don’t crow! We’re the wrong generation for this. I’ve a good mind to go back to town tomorrow and call on some old pussy who would probably read it as easy as winking. It’s a knack, that’s all.”
“Well, let’s have one more try.”
“There aren’t many things you can put on glowing coal,” said Tuppence thoughtfully. “There’s water, to put it out, or wood, or a kettle.”
“It must be one syllable, I suppose? What about wood , then?”
“You couldn’t put anything into wood, though.”
“There’s no one syllable word instead of water , but there must be one syllable things you can put on a fire in the kettle line.”
“Saucepans,” mused Tuppence. “Frying pans. How about pan ? Or pot ? What’s a word beginning pan or pot that is something you cook?”
“Pottery,” suggested Tommy. “You bake that in the fire. Wouldn’t that be near enough?”
“The rest of it doesn’t fit. Pancakes? No. Oh! bother.”
They were interrupted by the little serving maid, who told them that dinner would be ready in a few minutes.