the correct label. Ask anyone at
the Drones about this.

So now, in a situation threatening to become every moment more scaly, I
did not lose my head. I preserved the old sang-froid. Smiling a genial
and affectionate smile, and hoping that it wasn't too dark for it to
register, I spoke with a jolly cordiality:

"Why, hallo, Tuppy. You here?"

He said, yes, he was here.

"Been here long?"

"I have."

"Fine. I wanted to see you."

"Well, here I am. Come out from behind that bench."

"No, thanks, old man. I like leaning on it. It seems to rest the spine."

"In about two seconds," said Tuppy, "I'm going to kick your spine up
through the top of your head."

I raised the eyebrows. Not much good, of course, in that light, but it
seemed to help the general composition.

"Is this Hildebrand Glossop speaking?" I said.

He replied that it was, adding that if I wanted to make sure I might move
a few feet over in his direction. He also called me an opprobrious name.

I raised the eyebrows again.

"Come, come, Tuppy, don't let us let this little chat become acrid. Is
'acrid' the word I want?"

"I couldn't say," he replied, beginning to sidle round the bench.

I saw that anything I might wish to say must be said quickly. Already he
had sidled some six feet. And though, by dint of sidling, too, I had
managed to keep the bench between us, who could predict how long this
happy state of affairs would last?

I came to the point, therefore.

"I think I know what's on your mind, Tuppy," I said. "If you were in
those bushes during my conversation with the recent Angela, I dare say
you heard what I was saying about you."

"I did."

"I see. Well, we won't go into the ethics of the thing. Eavesdropping,
some people might call it, and I can imagine stern critics drawing in the
breath to some extent. Considering it--I don't want to hurt your
feelings, Tuppy--but considering it un-English. A bit un-English, Tuppy,
old man, you must admit."

"I'm Scotch."

"Really?" I said. "I never knew that before. Rummy how you don't suspect
a man of being Scotch unless he's Mac-something and says 'Och, aye' and
things like that. I wonder," I went on, feeling that an academic
discussion on some neutral topic might ease the tension, "if you can tell
me something that has puzzled me a good deal. What exactly is it that
they put into haggis? I've often wondered about that."

From the fact that his only response to the question was to l