"What of it! Everyone who comes into this room and sits by the fire does the same. It's nothing new."
"It is—it is! Listen to me, squirrel. He looks as if he could hear and understand us. That's new, isn't it? And he has a strange look in his eyes. Do you know, I think he is going mad."
"I don't mind, woodpecker. I shouldn't care if he were to run out on to the rocks at the Land's End and cast himself into the sea."
"Nor should I. But just think, if before rashing out to put an end to himself he should, in his raving madness, snatch down our cases from the niche and crush them into the grate with his heel!"
"What do you mean, woodpecker? Could such a thing happen?"
"Yes, if he really is insane, and if he is listening to us, and we are making him worse."
"If I could believe such a thing! I should cease to hate you, woodpecker. No, no, I can't believe it!"
"Just think, old neighbour, to have it end at last! Burnt up to ashes and smoke—feathers and hair, glass eyes, cottonwool stuffing and all!"
"Never again to hear that everlasting Hullo! To hate you and hate you and tell you a thousand thousand times, only to begin it all over again!"
"To fly up away in the smoke, out out out in the wind and rain!"