“Yes; but what?”

Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.

“Well, let’s have some air, anyway,” he said at last, exhausted by the effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then, struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, “Do you think I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they’re still at it? Because⁠—”

He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony’s face.

“Oh, idiot, idiot!” Antony cried. “Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons! Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!”

“What on earth⁠—”

“The window, the window!” cried Antony, pointing to it.

Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it said nothing, he looked at Antony again.