Well, transplant that idea to
the other and more human side of your nature, and say to yourself: 'Next
Thursday is Nemesis Day; what on earth can I do to those odious people
next door who made such an absurd fuss when Ping Yang bit their youngest
child?' Then you'd get up awfully early on the allotted day and climb
over into their garden and dig for truffles on their tennis court with a
good gardening fork, choosing, of course, that part of the court that was
screened from observation by the laurel bushes. You wouldn't find any
truffles but you would find a great peace, such as no amount of present-
giving could ever bestow."
"I shouldn't," said Mrs. Thackenbury, though her air of protest sounded a
bit forced; "I should feel rather a worm for doing such a thing."
"You exaggerate the power of upheaval which a worm would be able to bring
into play in the limited time available," said Clovis; "if you put in a
strenuous ten minutes with a really useful fork, the result ought to
suggest the operations of an unusually masterful mole or a badger in a
hurry."
"They might guess I had done it," said Mrs. Thackenbury.
"Of course they would," said Clovis; "that would be half the satisfaction
of the thing, just as you like people at Christmas to know what presents
or cards you've sent them. The thing would be much easier to manage, of
course, when you were on outwardly friendly terms with the object of your
dislike. That greedy little Agnes Blaik, for instance, who thinks of
nothing but her food, it would be quite simple to ask her to a picnic in
some wild woodland spot and lose her just before lunch was served; when
you found her again every morsel of food could have been eaten up.
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