Somewhere that's green...

"...and that's why I think Ticky should go."

White braced herself for the violent reprisal. She was not a good bearer of bad news, especially to those that she should technically respect. The leaflet calling for gardeners for the Smith Gardens (owned by Mssrs. Flim and Flam) lay on the table in front of her. Whatever the outcome, she was almost sure that she was going to get herself smashed later, though her aunt may do the honours in a literal sense right at this moment. And this was the relatively good news.

White was deathly afraid of explaining the state she had found Ticky in this morning, and was using this as a sort of detour before the really bad news. That her aunt's supposedly irrational fears were right, all along.

Yes, she was definitely keeping an appointment with the bottle later.