Me: Harriet has the longest, most relaxed, tongue of any dog I’ve seen.
Nell: That’s still no excuse for photographing it so many times.
Me: I was taking photos of all three of you enjoying yourselves.
Nell: I noticed.
Me: I noticed you giving me one of your hard stares at one point.
Nell: One can’t even enjoy a lie down, or a gentle sniffari, nowadays, without it being caught on camera.
Me: It was unusual to see Harriet taking a break.
Nell: Yes. She’s usually bounding around.
Me: Unlike Herr Hoffmann. He’s exhausted.
Nell: I know. Frau Hoffmann was talking to me about it over breakfast.
Me: What did you have?
Nell: Freshly baked rolls with lashings of farmhouse butter and a lightly boiled egg. But that’s not the point.
Me: No.
Nell: She’s worried about him. He’s an elderly bear and all this scone baking is wearing him out.
Me: It has to stop.
Nell: I’m thinking of asking David to pass a law against it.
Me: Against what? Baking scones?
Nell: No. Against scones for Beefies.
Me: I’m not sure Dave’s allowed to pass laws.
Nell: He’s the Mayor of Kingsbridge.
Me: How would it work?
Nell: Any Beefy seen with a scone would be fined.
Me: Beefies don’t care two hoots about fines.
Nell: They’re seagulls, not owls, but you’re right.
Me: Can’t Frau Hoffmann talk to him?
Nell: She’s tried, and so has Rupert.
Me: I’m surprised he didn’t listen to Knitwear Wolf.
Nell: He did, but the Beefies won him over with their sad singing.
Me: The trouble with Herr Hoffmann is he has a kind heart.
Nell: Yes.
Me: And only sees the good in others.
Nell: True.
Me: He needs to be more like you.
Nell: I beg your pardon?
Me: Sorry.
