"The fact is, Mrs. Pinner, I'm an
inventor. Yes, an inventor. Oh, yes, an inventor." The wretched steed
was stumbling, but he clung on; spurred afresh. "An inventor. And I
have to leave things lying about--delicate instruments that mustn't be
disturbed. Awfully delicate. I shall be out all day. I shall be taking
my invention into the open air to experiment with it. My invention--"
He waved his hand at the basket.
Mrs. Pinner quite understood; was impressed. "Oh, dear, yes, mister.
To be sure. An inventor; fancy that, now!" She gazed at the basket.
"And the invention is in there?"
"Right in there," George assured her.
"You'll parding my asking, mister; but your saying you have to take it
in the open hair--is it one of them hairships, mister?"
"Well, it _is,_" George said frankly. This was a useful idea and he
approved it. "It _is._ It's an airship."
"Well, I never did!" Mrs. Pinner admired, gazing at the basket. "A
hairship in there!"
"_Mi-aow!_" spoke the Rose--penetrating, piercing.
Mrs. Pinner cocked her head on one side; looked under the table. "I
declare I thought I heard a cat," she puzzled. "In this very room."
George felt perfectly certain that his hair was standing bolt upright
on the top of his head, thrusting at right angles to the sides. He
forced his alarmed face to smile: "A cock crowing in the yard, I
think, Mrs.
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