'_Ach so_,' said Tante Else, vague because she doesn't know her Bible any better than the rest of us Germans; it is only you English who have it at your fingers' ends; and, of course, my step-mother had it at hers. 'Tents,' continued Tante Else, feeling that as _Hausfrau_ it was her duty to make herself conversationally conspicuous, and anxious to hide that she was privately at sea, 'tents are unwholesome as permanent dwellings. I should say a situation somewhere as doorkeeper in a healthy building was much to be preferred to living in nasty draughty things like tents.' '_Quatsch_,' said Onkel Heinrich, with sudden and explosive bitterness; you remember of course that _quatsch_ is German for silly, or nonsense, and that it is far more expressive, and also more rude, than either. My step-mother opened her mouth to speak, but Tante Else, urged by her sense of duty, flowed on. 'You cannot,' she said, addressing Papa, 'be a doorkeeper unless there is a door to keep.' 'Let no one,' cried Papa, beating approving hands together, 'say again that ladies are not logicians.' '_Quatsch_,' said Onkel Heinrich. 'And a door is commonly a--a-' She cast about for the word. 'A necessity?' suggested Papa, all bright and pleased attention. 'A convenience?' suggested my cousin Lieschen, the rather pretty unmarried daughter, a girl with a neat head, an untidy body, and plump red hands. 'An ornament?' suggested my cousin Elschen, the rather pretty married daughter, another girl with a neat head, an untidy body, and plump red hands. 'A thing you go in at?' I suggested. 'No, no,' said Tante Else impatiently, determined to run down her word. 'A thing you go out at, then?' said I, proud of the resourcefulness of my intelligence. 'No, no,' said Tante Else, still more impatiently. '_Ach Gott_, where do all the words get to?' 'Is it something very particular for which you are searching?' asked my step-mother, with the sympathetic interest you show in the searchings of the related rich. 'Something not worth the search, we may be sure,' remarked Onkel Heinrich. '_Ach Gott_,' said Tante Else, not heeding him, 'where do they--' She clasped and unclasped her fingers; she gazed round the room and up at the ceiling. We all sat silent, feeling that here there was no help, and watched while she chased the elusive word round and round her brain. Only Onkel Heinrich continued to eat herring salad with insulting emphasis. 'I have it,' she cried at last triumphantly. We at once revived into a brisk attention. 'A door is a characteristic--' 'A most excellent word,' said Papa encouragingly. 'Continue, my dear.' 'It is a characteristic of buildings that are massive and that have windows and chimneys like other buildings.' 'Excellent, excellent,' said Papa. 'Definitions are never easy.'