Nobby. Exhilarated to frenzy by
the reflection that at least four days must elapse before any one could
be bothered to bathe him again, the terrier took a flying leap on to the
sofa, licked Daphne's face, put a foot in Berry's eye, barked, hurled
himself across the room to where Jonah was playing Patience, upset the
card-table, dashed three times round the room, pretended to unearth a
rat from the depths of Jill's chair, and finally flung himself exhausted
at my feet.
"I suppose this is what they call 'animal spirits,'" said Berry. "Or
'muscular Christianity.'"
"It is well known," said I, "that exercise after a bath is most
beneficial."
"No doubt," was the icy reply. "Well, next time I put my foot in your
eye, assume that I've had a bath and call it 'exercise,' will you?"
"Have you written to the St. Martins?" said Daphne, "to say that you'll
be a day late?"
"I have. The masterpiece is on the writing-table, awaiting insertion in
an envelope."
I picked up the letter and read aloud as follows--
_MADAM,_
_I am disposed to refer to your invitation to make one of the
house-party due to assemble on the 23rd instant._
_I am to say that a malignant Fate has decreed that I shall not dignify
your hovel before the evening of the following day.
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