It was a Sunday night in mid Winter. The snow had stopped falling, but now it was frosty and the whole countryside was white, crunchy underfoot and glinting in the moonlight.

All sensible people were locked up in doors, sitting by nice warm fires.

The man drained his whisky glass and knocked out his pipe on the coal scuttle.

"I say Scuttle, nip out and get some more logs and a bit more coal, there's a good lad".

"Why is it always me?, it's cold out there", grumbled Scuttle.

The adventures of Scuttle will warm your heart.