Laura had bacon frying for her monthly treat, bacon and egg sandwiches. Mat grumbled over the newspaper.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked. “Tough crossword?”

“China. China’s really got me down. Do you know where the Huang Ho goes? In grade school I knew the Huang Ho and the Yangtze, and now I don’t even know which goes up and down and which goes across. I feel so dumb. Millions of Chinese know every mile of the Mississippi, and all I remember is that on the wall map China was a big yellow cloud. Not particularly politically correct, eh? We got to be green. Russia reddish pink.”

Laura laughed and embraced Mat from behind. “So what if you don’t know the Yangtze? You know my private river.” She wiggled against him.

“Private, huh?”

“Very, very private. I think it’s safe to say that of the billions of Chinese, nary a one knows an inch of it. But maybe you’d like to take a quick little dip before breakfast?”

Mat and Laura’s pajama bottoms puddled the kitchen floor.

“Mm, what a nice big nose your porpoise has,” Laura said. “Does he want to splash in my river? He’s going to be a good boy, isn’t he? He’s not going to be naughty and need a bathing cap?”

Mat snorted. His porpoise dove deep.

“Ah,” Laura said. “What a strong swimmer.”

While bacon sizzled, porpoise did his tricks.

“I just thought of something,” Mat sad. “George Eliot’s Oldest Girl.”

Laura gave him a quizzical look.

Porpoise nudged.

“Oh, yes,” Laura said. “Rode A Pig Home Yesterday!”

“A Rat In The House...”

“May Eat The Ice Cream!”

“Mat and Laura sitting in—”

“You know what?” Laura said. Her eyes fluttered. Her lips parted. Her river shivered. Wave after wonderful wave.

Mat drowned.