“Last year,” said Mr. Oriel, “the water came right up to the lower wall and a swan was stranded in my kitchen garden, as you may remember. It must have been carried down from your lake. We had great trouble in ejecting it.”
“Carried down!” said Mr. Belton. “It would take more than a rise in the river to take a swan where it didn’t want to go. Interfering, selfish birds they are. I know that swan. One year when my man hadn’t clipped their wings nearly enough, that swan went over to Pomfret’s bit of water, simply to give trouble. If Hitler were a bird he’d certainly be a swan, barging about with his wings and trying to frighten people. Where do you get rabbit, Oriel? We haven’t seen a rabbit on the place for weeks.”
“I am not supposed to know,” said Mr. Oriel. “But from what Mrs. Powlett h
