"I'm getting the atmosphere. Have you an old top hat on you, dear, because if so we'll make a pudding. No top hat? Then pudding is horf."
"But stay, who is this approaching? Can it be—I say, mind the footlights. When are we going to begin?"
"There!" said Thomas proudly. "Anybody would know that was blood."
"But how perfectly lovely," said Myra. "Only you want some notches."
"What for?"
"To show where you executed the other men, of course. You always get a bit off your axe when you execute anybody."
"Yes, I've noticed that too," I agreed. "Notches, Thomas, notches."
"Why don't you do something for a change? What about the trap or whatever it is you catch your bally rats with? Why don't you make that?"
"It isn't done with a trap, Thomas dear. It's partly the power of the human eye and partly kindness. I sit upon a sunny bank and sing to them."
"Which is that?"