It was turning into a bit of a drag with Mr. Enoch Breton chuckabooing it up Willie Flyrink after one or two bellflower root juleps at the Scoured Egg. Mr. Breton had the tendency to come up with well-oiled tales of wonderful get rich schemes. (All of which had bitten Willie on the rear end once or twice. Or thrice.) He finally doffed his fez and was absolutely not going to trip up in another short sighted scheme involving hiring oneself out as a professional garden hermit. I’ll leave you to surmise who this hermit would be…

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