"It means that your poor head aches." "Oh! but it means something else; it's a sort of rushing and singing noise, always rushing and singing. What is it like? Do help me to remember!" Sir Everard racked his brain to satisfy the poor little questioner, but to no purpose. "You're not trying, father," said the little fellow peevishly. Sir Everard wondered to himself whether the child could be thinking of the rushing of water in the ears described by people rescued from drowning, and answered-- "Is it like the sound of water?" "Yes, yes!" exclaimed Humphrey; "it's like the sound----," he stopped, and then added, "of many waters." He seemed struck by his own words. "What is that, father? Where have I heard that? What is it like?" Sir Everard thought he had satisfied him, and was distressed to hear the question again, fearing he would exhaust himself by so much talk. "I told you before, darling, it is like a sound of water." "That's all wrong," he said, mournfully, half crying, "it's not _water_, it's _waters_--many waters." "Yes, yes, my child," said Sir Everard soothingly, alarmed at his agitation. "But say it again, father; say it right through." Sir Everard repeated, "A sound of many waters." "There!" exclaimed Humphrey, "_now_ what is it? You must know what it means now!" Sir Everard was more puzzled than ever, having thought that they had come to an end of the discussion. "I _really_ don't know, my boy!" "If _you'd_ got a sound of many waters in your head, father, you'd like to hear what it means! Oh, where did I hear all about it? Where have I been? Who was near me? You were there, father, I know, for I remember your face; and all the while somebody was telling us what the rushing and singing in my head means!" Sir Everard thought the boy was wandering, and did not try to answer him any more. He was accustomed to sit for hours by the bedside, while Humphrey rambled incoherently on. It was no use trying to follow the poor little brain through the mazes of thought into which it now plunged. Presently Humphrey startled him by saying-- "What does Charlie mean?" "Well, nothing particular, darling." "But it does, it does," said the child. "Does it mean the same thing as a sound of many waters?" "Yes, yes," said his father, still thinking he was wandering. "Then if I say 'a sound of Charlie,'" said Humphrey, "it means the same as 'a sound of rushing and singing in my head?'" "No, no, dear," answered Sir Everard, surprised to find him so rational. "Why, you said 'Yes,' just now," said the child, with a sob. "If you tell stories, father, you'll go to hell like.... _Who_ was it told stories about the wild men's dinner party?" he concluded, excitedly. "Uncle Charlie," answered his father, "but he didn't tell stories, dear, it was only a joke."