He therefore sent home for two of the best.
The ferrets arrived in due course, received the names Burroughs and
Welcome, were blessed and turned loose.
They had had a rough trip over at the bottom of the mail sack and were
looking for trouble. An old rat strolled out of his club to see what all
the noise was about, and got the excitement he needed. Seven friends came
to his funeral and never smiled again. There was great rejoicing in that
underground Mess that evening; Burroughs and Welcome were feted on bully
beef and condensed milk, and made honorary members.
For three days the good work went on; there was weeping in the cupboards
and gnashing of teeth behind the old oak panelling. Then on the fourth day
Burroughs and Welcome disappeared, and the rats swarmed to their own again.
The deserters were found a week later; they had wormed through a system of
rat-holes into the next dug-out, inhabited by the Atkinses, and had
remained there, honoured guests.
It is the nature of the British Atkins to make a pet of anything, from a
toad to a sucking pig--he cannot help it. The story about St. George, doyen
of British soldiers, killing that dragon--nonsense! He would have spanked
it, may be, until it promised to reform, then given it a cigarette, and
taken it home to amuse the children.
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