"Not so very," I repeated.
"I wish it had been straight."
"So do I; but it's too late now. You have to leave these things very largely to the screw-driver. Besides, elephants often do have their heads sideways; I've noticed it at the Zoo."
"Well, never mind. I think it's very clever of you to do it at all. Now then, you go in, and I'll knock and see if you hear."
I went in and shut the door, Celia remaining outside. After five seconds, having heard nothing, but not wishing to disappoint her, I said, "Come in," in the voice of one who has been suddenly disturbed by a loud "rat-tat."
"I haven't knocked yet," said Celia from the other side of the door.
"Why not?"
"I was admiring him. He is jolly. Do come and look at him again."
I went out and looked at him again. He really gave an air to the library door.
"His face is rather dirty," said Celia. "I think he wants some brass polish and a—and a bun."