"Where have I heard the name Byres before?" I murmured thoughtfully.
"You haven't," said John. "Nobody has."
"Say 'Byres,' baby," urged Beatrice happily.
"You're quite sure that there isn't anything advertised called
'Byres'? You're sure you can't drink Byres or rub yourself down with
Byres?"
"Quite."
"Well, then, we must be AT Byres."
There was a shriek from Beatrice, as she rushed to the window.
"We're in the wrong train--Quick! Get the bags!--Have you got the
rug?--Where's the umbrella?--Open the window, stupid!"