"Well, let's try again," said the Archaeopteryx. "Why is a robin like a waterbut?" "A robin is a bird that comes in the winter," repeated the Eteraedarium, "and the waterbut--is that also a bird?" "Oh, no," laughed Marjorie; "a waterbut is a tub for holding water." "Can it fly?" asked the Eteraedarium. "Of course not!" said Dick; "who ever heard of such a thing?" "Well, _is_ it like a robin? That's the point," said the Palaeotherium. "Not in appearance," admitted Dick. "Will you give it up?" he added, looking around the table. "Give what up?" asked the creatures. "The conundrum," replied Dick. "I haven't got it," declared the Dodo. "Nor have I." "Nor I." "Nor I," said the others. "No, no! I mean, will you give the answer up?" said Dick, losing patience. "But we haven't it," said the Archaeopteryx. "Look here, I'll tell you what we'll do," said the Palaeotherium, generously: "I'll give up the robin, and my friend here will give up the waterbut. There!" "Now _that's_ settled," said the Dodo, conclusively, "_I'll_ ask you a conundrum. 'If your wife's aunt is----'" "Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "I haven't got a wife, you know." "No," said the Eteraedarium, "he hasn't, and, if he had, she very likely would not have an aunt. Make it my wife's aunt." "All right," said the Dodo. "If _your_ wife's aunt is my brother's son, what relation is Dick to Tom?" "You haven't asked it right," said Dick, who knew a riddle something like that. "It's 'if this man's father is that man's son, what relation is Dick to Tom?'" "I wish you wouldn't interfere," said the Dodo. "I tell you the question is right as I asked it." "But your wife's aunt couldn't be anybody's son," said Marjorie, who was trying to puzzle it out. "Who said she _was_?" snapped the Dodo, crossly; "she is as likely to be anybody's son as a robin is to be like a waterbut, and besides, I didn't say she was; I said, if she was, you know." "Well, let's work it out," said the Eteraedarium, spreading out his fingers. "Let's see, that's my wife's aunt," he continued, pointing to his thumb, "and that's my brother's son," he added, touching the next finger, "and the other two will do for Dick and Tom. Now--er----" "Who is the other finger?" interrupted the Dodo, anxiously. "Me," said the Palaeotherium, solemnly and ungrammatically. "It isn't," declared the other. "It is," repeated the Palaeotherium. "Oh, very well! let it be so," cried the Archaeopteryx, impatiently. "What's the answer, anyhow?" [Illustration: "'Who is the other finger?' interrupted the Dodo, anxiously."] "I don't know," said the Eteraedarium, staring at his fingers stupidly. "I don't see what relation those two fingers are to the other two. Well, what relation _is_ Dick to Tom?" he asked, turning to the Dodo.