Last Wednesday, being the anniversary of the Wednesday before, Celia gave me a present of a door-knocker. The knocker was in the shape of an elephant's head (not life-size); and by bumping the animal's trunk against his chin you could produce a small brass noise.
"It's for the library," she explained eagerly. "You're going to work there this morning, aren't you?"
"Yes, I shall be very busy," I said in my busy voice.
"Well, just put it up before you start, and then if I have to interrupt you for anything important, I can knock with it. Do say you love it."
"It's a dear, and so are you. Come along, let's put it up."
I got a small screw-driver, and with very little loss of blood managed to screw it into the door. Some people are born screwists, some are not. I am one of the nots.
"It's rather sideways," said Celia doubtfully.
"Osso erry," I said.
"What?"
I took my knuckle from my mouth.