The Grub-And-Stakers Move a Mountain
“That enigmatic utterance about Osbert must have been her swan song for the night. And who was Osbert, anyway? Was he some actual being of flesh and blood who might be induced to hand out a few leaflets or hack a few trails, or was he but an Osbert of the mind, a false creation proceeding from the plot-oppressed brain? Knowing Arethusa as she did, Dittany was inclined to the latter assumption. Sometime around the middle of August, like as not, she would come across Osbert in a heap of mangled co...py paper. The prospect gave her no pleasure.
By now it was well past midnight and she was ready to drop in her tracks, had she been making any at the moment. Upstairs her comfortable bed was waiting. She yearned for that bed as Osbert would no doubt be yearning for some chaste but voluptuous knucklehead a few months from now. Yet the thought of climbing the stairs to get at it was, she might as well admit, one she did not care to entertain by herself.
There was only one thing to do, and Dittany did it.MoreLess
By now it was well past midnight and she was ready to drop in her tracks, had she been making any at the moment. Upstairs her comfortable bed was waiting. She yearned for that bed as Osbert would no doubt be yearning for some chaste but voluptuous knucklehead a few months from now. Yet the thought of climbing the stairs to get at it was, she might as well admit, one she did not care to entertain by herself.
There was only one thing to do, and Dittany did it.MoreLess
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