It takes the unremitting efforts of
Miss Ropes and the entire available strength of convalescent officers
(after deducting the players of bridge, the stalkers of rabbits and
the jig-saw squad) to supply Philip with a square meal.
Recently a caterpillar famine began to make itself felt in the parts
of the garden near the house, and the enthusiasm of the collectors
evaporated at the prospect of searching farther afield.
Ansell was the first to cry off.
"I'm sorry, Miss Ropes," he said firmly, "but I have an instinctive
antipathy to reptiles."
"They aren't--they're insects."
"In that case," he replied still more firmly, "the shrieks of the
little creatures when Philip gets 'em rend my heartstrings. I don't
think the doctor would approve."
Haynes suggested that Philip's behaviour savoured of unpatriotism,
and that the one thing needful was the immediate appointment of a
caterpillar controller. Miss Ropes countered this by electing herself
to the post, and declaring that the supply was adequate to meet all
demands, as soon as the regrettable strike of transport-workers was
settled.
"Don't you think," I said, "that it would be very much nicer--for
Philip--if he were allowed to forage for himself? We had a bullfinch
once who spent his days in the garden and always came back to the cage
at night.
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