He produced from his pocket a small packet in tissue paper.
"Oh, how exciting! Whatever can it be?"
Merriwig unwrapped the paper, and disclosed a couple of ginger whiskers, neatly tied up with blue ribbon.
"Father!"
He picked out the left one, fons et origo (if he had known any Latin) of the war, and held it up for Hyacinth's inspection.
"There, you can see the place where Henry Smallnose's arrow bent it. By the way," he added, "Henry is marrying and settling down in Barodia. It is curious," he went on, "how after a war one's thoughts turn to matrimony." He glanced at his daughter to see how she would take this, but she was still engrossed with the whiskers.
"What am I going to do with them, Father? I can't plant them in the garden."
"I thought we might run them up the flagstaff, as we did in Barodia."
"Isn't that a little unkind now that the poor man's dead?"
Merriwig looked round him to see that there were no eavesdroppers.