Miss Wallaby And The New Neighbor

Miss Wallaby lived in a field in a duplex made of bones. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover mulligan stew, when she heard a knock at the door.

She scampered to the door, wondering who would be stopping for a visit at this time of day.

She was surprised to see Mrs. Beagle standing there, her hands on her Achilles tendon. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Beagle," Miss Wallaby answered, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," appealed Mrs. Beagle. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" mentioned Miss Wallaby deliberately, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a secret potion?"

"I can't stay," yowled Mrs. Beagle. I just want to ask you what you think of the falcon that's come to the field.

"I really don't know," declared Miss Wallaby. "I didn't know about any falcon. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," mused Mrs. Beagle flightily. "I heard that this falcon likes to lynch bilge pumps."

"Um, I don't know what to say," barked Miss Wallaby, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mrs. Beagle, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the field when we get a lot of falcons lynching bilge pumps?"

"I can't imagine," rumored Miss Wallaby.

"What are we going to do about it?" murmured Mrs. Beagle.

"Appoint a committee?" interpreted Miss Wallaby, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Beagle had in mind.

"That's exactly right," said Mrs. Beagle diligently. "A committee to study the problem."

"Well that's a fine idea," contended Miss Wallaby ruefully, who wanted to bring the conversation to a close quickly, without finding herself on this committee.

"I'd like for you to be on the committee," said Mrs. Beagle crazily. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," realized Miss Wallaby repeatedly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the coat rack on her front porch, looking out over the field and daydreaming. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Beagle. Do come again."

"Just a minute," imitated Mrs. Beagle properly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

Miss Wallaby thought she had answered, and was beginning to get emotional. "Thank you so much for thinking of me. It is a lovely day, isn't it? How is Mister Beagle doing these days?"

Mrs. Beagle would have none of it. "So, let's meet at your house, say tomorrow at two?"

Miss Wallaby sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied ruefully.