Then he stamped his foot, and raising his arms over his head, he made a low bow.
“Madam, your wish to see me, though it is only prompted by idle curiosity, has brought me down from my kingdom among the chimney pots. I have a request to make to you. Will you take my place for a few hours? I am called away on urgent private affairs, but I cannot leave my work up there unless you will give me your help.”
His voice was high and sharp. It was rather like listening to a sparrow.
“HE MADE A LOW BOW”
He went straight on, without waiting for an answer. “It is a mistake to suppose that I live in the chimney. It would be most disagreeable to do so, as I should have thought you, who have imagination, would realize. But I am talking too much. I wait respectfully, Madam, for your answer. Will you help me?”
Veronica wriggled uncomfortably under the warm bedclothes.
“I will help you if I can.” She was a cautious, as well as a truthful, child, so she added hastily, “I don’t want to say I will, if I can’t. And are you—are you Mr. Snoogles?”
The strange little man standing on the mat threw back his head so suddenly that the lid of the kettle fell off and bounced away behind the coal scuttle.
“Oh, how funny!” he laughed. “I shall add that to my collection. No, I’m not Mr. Snoogles; but I am the person whom your brother calls Mr. Snoogles.”