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."

This apposite though untrue anecdote obviously impressed the lady, but
she decided that Philip was too precious to be made the subject of
experiment. The transport-workers then returned to their labours,
under protest.