Their guests gone, Frodo and Bilbo gathered up the tea things for washing up, and carried them into the small kitchen which was a part of their rooms.

Bilbo was smiling. He seemed very pleased with himself. Frodo glanced at his cousin, and shook his head. He was more perplexed than pleased, himself. He still had a great many questions he would have liked to have had answered.

Bilbo washed the dishes and handed them to Frodo for drying.

"What did you think of what Lady Mirimë told us?" Frodo asked, for Bilbo had not yet said anything of their guest at all.

Bilbo turned and grinned at him. "She's a very attractive hobbitess, don't you think? Did you notice her eyes?"

A saucer slipped from Frodo's grasp and smashed upon the floor as he gaped at Bilbo, dismayed.

Bilbo laughed heartily. "Oh blessed stars, Frodo! You should have seen your face. I was only pulling your foot hair-- she's our great-grandmother, for goodness' sake!"

Frodo stared for an instant, and then laughed ruefully, as he looked down at the smashed crockery. "I'm sorry, Uncle, but you quite startled me!"

"So I see. Go fetch the broom, Frodo, and we'll see to cleaning this up. Thank goodness these dishes are not family heirlooms."

Chagrined at having been cozened by Bilbo, Frodo came back and carefully swept up the shards into a dustpan and binned them. "Uncle Bilbo, what do you really think of her story?"

"I think, my lad, that we have not heard the end of it-- or her-- yet. My own Tookish curiousity is quite as roused as yours, but I have a feeling we will speak to Grandmother Adamanta again soon."

Frodo wished he could be as patient as his cousin. There was much to learn still.