old committee room I saw there was something particular about you,
something that you an' me 'ad in common. I'm not speakin' so much of us
bein' in the same line of business. Some'ow--oh, 'ang it all, let's get
out of this and take a taxi. I'm not a kissing man, but----"

He seemed very persistent in applying negatived adjectives to himself.
It was not his fault if the world failed to grasp exactly what he was,
or rather exactly what he was not.

"I have often wondered," interrupted the witch, "talking of
kissing--what would happen if two snipes wanted to kiss each other? It
would have to be at such awfully long range, wouldn't it. Or----"

"Come off it," ordered the Mayor irritably. "What about gettin' out of
this and----"

"Don't you think this is becoming rather a tiresome scene?" said the
witch. "Somehow over luscious, don't you think? I wish those apple
dumplings would hurry up."

"'Ere, miss," said the Mayor ungraciously to a passing whirlwind. "'Urry
them dumplings."

"'Urry them dumplings," echoed the whirlwind to a little hole in the
wall.

The witch had a silly vision of two distressed dumplings, like dilatory
chorus girls, mad with the nightmare feeling of not being dressed in
time, hearing their cue called in a heartless voice from the inexorable
sky, desperately applying the last dab of flour to their imperfect