Over The Sacred Bamboo

The ghostly old person is still deciding, when Gaius and Arthur come round to the front of Rose-Eden.

Gaius is squeezing pool water out of the cover.

Where shall we hang it? asks Gaius.

Drape it over one of these bushes, says Arthur.

It is now that they see Terence, in the grasp of a ghostly old person.

What's going on here? asks Gaius.

I might ask the same question, says the old person.

You might not, says Gaius. We have a wet duvet cover, admittedly not ours, but you appear to be abducting young Terence.

He's taking me to the farmery, says Terence.

He certainly isn't, says Gaius. Who are you, sir? 

Mr Phillip Hill, says the ghostly old person. Headmaster of Goolwa Primary School. And this is Hygiene House, where my wife and I keep our boarders.

I think you'll find you are in the wrong place, says Gaius. This is Rose-Eden House, a pricey bed and breakfast for tourists.

He might be in the wrong century, says Arthur.

Ah, says Gaius. You may be right, Arthur. When was this, or should I say, is this?

What a question, says the ghostly old Phillip Hill. Eighteen seventy six of course.

Of course, says Gaius. At which time this place was called Hygiene House?

My wife and I named it, says old Phillip Hill.

What on earth were you thinking? asks Gaius.

I know! says Terence. His wife was called Jean!

She wasn't, says old Phillip. Hygiene means cleanliness.

Among other things, says Gaius. 

It means Hello, says Terence.

It doesn't mean hello, says old Phillip.

No it doesn't, says Gaius. Perhaps Arthur can tell you what hygiene is.

Not rinsing vomit from a duvet cover into a swimming pool, says Arthur.

Good gracious! says  old Phillip. Don't tell me that's what you've done?

That is not your affair, says Gaius. I'll warrant there was no swimming pool out the back in your day.

True, there wasn't, says old Phillip Hill. I do beg your pardon.

Freely given, says Gaius. Why don't you come up to our room for a chat? I believe there are chocolates.

Better be, says Arthur.

I should be pleased to, says old Phillip Hill.

It is not often he gets such a kind invitation.

They all go inside, having left the wet duvet cover draped over a sacred bamboo.