As I scrambled out the window and climbed to the ground, I almost stepped on Dogger, who was on his knees in the wet grass. He got to his feet, lifted his hat, and replaced it. “Good afternoon, Miss Flavia.” “Good afternoon, Dogger.” “Lovely rain.” “Quite lovely.” Dogger glanced up at the golden sky, then went on with his weeding. The very best people are like that. They don’t entangle you like flypaper.
