The Baskets would not be returning for another hour at least.

He unlatched the front door, stepped out, and closed it softly behind him.
Now mark how simply--how, with a short laugh--by the crook of a little finger, as it were--the envious gods topple down the tallest human pride.
The Major descended the front steps, halted for a moment to peer at a statuette of Hercules resting on his club, and passed on down the central path of the garden with a smile for his worthy friend's foible.

A dozen paces, and his toe encountered the rim of Mr.
Basket's fish-pond.

.

.