"Maybe you're going to say, 'Use your dictionary,'" ventured Gwendolyn.
"Oh, dearie!" chided Miss Royle, managing a very good blush for a snake.
But now Gwendolyn guessed the reason for the other's sudden display of affection. For that scaly head was rising out of the grass, inch by inch, and those glittering serpent eyes were fixed upon the Bird!
Unable to move, he watched her, plumage on end, round eyes fairly starting.
"Cheep! Cheep!"
At his cry of terror, the Doctor interposed. "I think we'd better take the Bird out of here," he said. "The less noise the better." And with that, he lifted the small frightened thing from Gwendolyn's finger.
Miss Royle, quite thrown off her poise, sank hissing to the ground. "My neuralgia's worse than ever this evening," she complained, affecting not to notice his interference.
"Huh!" he grunted. "Keep away from bargain counters."
The Piper came jangling up. "That snake belongs in her case," he declared, addressing the Doctor.
More than once Gwendolyn had wondered why the Piper had burdened himself—to all appearances uselessly and foolishly—with the various pieces of lead pipe. But now what wily forethought she granted him. For with a few quick flourishes of the wrench, she saw him join them, end to end, to form one length. This he threw to the ground, after which he gave a short, sharp whistle.