I heard Schwartz telling Dolly that he had changed his mind and would go to church, so at half-past ten they walked off to the village. It was quite warm in the sun, but the air was nippy, so I gave Tib a run across the lawn when I found her stalking a sparrow; then I went round to see Bob. He was busy eating. I suppose a horse has to get through a lot of hay before he fills up. Hay is dry stuff at the best. I like an odd snack between meals myself, but the only chew worth considering is something you can load in quickly before any other fellow has a chance of grabbing it.
Anyhow, when I asked Bob what a mongoose was, he was rather short, and said he had no time for riddles, as he had been dreaming of niggers all night.
“Tell you what,” said I, “hay makes you nervous. It must be like tea. Cookie says—”
Then Bob gave his horse laugh.
“Cookie calls it ‘tea,’ does she?” he roared. “You give her my compliments and ask her to draw some of that tea for me in a jug. Tib knows where the barrel is.”
So I trotted back to Polly.
“Look here!” I said, “tell me what a mongoose is, and I’ll nick some grapes for you.”
He was singing “Hello, my baby,” but he stopped.
“It’s an ichneumon,” he answered. That nettled me.
“Anything like a cockatoo?” I asked.