Poor Tummis did try to be more Iremonger, but he found it monstrous hard. Tummis could not stop himself, a dead rat was a dead friend to him. He preferred the company of animals to Iremongers, and loved the house very much, especially at night when he might observe the wildlife. He named all his cockroaches and petted them, and was very fond of his second family. Once, a few seasons ago, Tummis had acquired, after long saving his pocket money, an ostrich egg, an egg which he wrote for and had delivered in a special wooden crate from near London where a man kept such huge fauna. He treasured that egg, and tried very hard to hatch it, keeping it warm and safe. But one day, when Tummis was away from his room, it is supposed Moorcus came in there and smashed the egg. When Tummis returned there was nothing there but eggshell. Some of my relatives told stories that the ostrich egg had not been smashed by Moorcus, but that it had in fact hatched of its own accord and let itself out, thumping away into household myth. They said the noises in the night were made by Tummis’s errant ostrich. But I did not believe one animal could make all those sounds. For myself, I was certain that it was Moorcus who did for Tummis’s ostrich, and now Wateringcan was lost alongside it and should join the great list of Tummis’s missing.

Out in the heaps I had observed Tummis standing up to his shins, cooing at the seagulls and pretending to glide like them by moving his arms and flapping a little; often he brought the gulls crumbs and buns. But mostly, even above all those animals, even above his lost ostrich, it was Ormily who Tummis he loved.

Cousin Ormily was small and sweet and shy, she was quite quiet and unassuming, her hair was so blonde it was almost white and she had white eyebrows, and she was very fond of Tummis. It was all very odd, this Iremonger love match, no one knew what to do with it. Ormily’s birth object, Tummis told me, was a watering can. She had told him so herself, and what greater proof of her love could there be than that? Tummis had named his seagull after Ormily’s birth object, calling it Wateringcan.

‘Sometimes, I do think I shall die in corduroy shorts,’ he said, ‘and never be with her. I was going to see her, very quickly tonight, before Evensong. She was to wait for me in the chest of the Grand Grandfather. But now, how can I tell her that Wateringcan got out? She’ll think I don’t care.’

He was so miserable, something had to be done.

‘Tummis,’ I said, ‘go and see her. I’ll keep watch for you if you like.’

‘Really, Clod? You’d do that?’

‘You will not be disturbed.’