"Oh, Mr. Beetle Man, are you there?" she called.
"Yes, Voice. You sound strange. What is it?"
"I've been hurrying, and if you tell me I'm late, I'll--I'll fall
on your neck again and break it."
"Has anything happened?"
"Nothing in particular. I've been boxing the compass with a mule.
It's tiresome."
He reflected.
"You're not, by any chance, speaking figuratively of your
respected parent?"
"Certainly NOT!" she disclaimed indignantly. "This was a real
mule. You're very impertinent."
"Well, you see, he was impertinent to me, saying he was out when
he was in. What is his decision--yes or no?"
"No."
A sharp exclamation came from the nook below.
"Is that the entomological synonym for 'damn'?" she inquired.
"It's a lament for time wasted on a--Well, never mind that."
"But he wants you to carry a message by that secret route of
yours. Will you do it for him?"
"NO!"
"That's not being a very kind or courteous beetle man."
"I owe Mr. Brewster no courtesy."
"And you pay only where you owe? Just, but hardly amiable. Well,
you owe me nothing--but--will you do it for me?"
"Yes.
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