zers instead of earthing down in her beaver bonnet, the king ship of Poolland, Mrs Dowager Justice Squalchman, foorsitter, in her trees; and we caught the wind up and flinnered down into the shimmering of her readers II2 realise that she had only more matcher’s wit. Findlings makes runaways, runaways a stray. She’s as merry as the corncrake, Ani Latch of the mythe- lated in the bush. And