... You see, I've
just been mauled.... No. Not 'called,' mauled. Emma, ak, u, l for
leather--I beg your pardon. Yes, isn't it tawful? Well, if you must
know, it was a bloodhound. They told me at the Dogs' Home that he'd lost
his scent as a result of the air raids, but last night the charwoman
gave him a sausage I'd left, and he pulled me down this morning.... Yes.
This is Major Pleydell.... Oh, Walter Thomas Dale? Yes, I remember
perfectly.... Received the requisite number of votes? Splendid.... Can
be admitted on the fifteenth of June? Thanks very much.... What?... Oh,
I shall pull round. Yes, thanks. I shall just get the wounds plugged,
and.... Good-bye."
We heard the receiver replaced.
"Hurray!" cried Daphne. "I am glad. That's a real load off my mind.
Write and tell them this morning, will you?" I looked up from the
operation of drying Nobby and nodded. "Poor people, they'll be so
thankful. And now, what happened upstairs?"
"Mixed bathing," said I. "Your husband had not left the bath when Nobby
entered it. Both were frightened, but neither was hurt."
As I spoke, Berry emerged from the library with a cigarette in his
mouth.
"My milk-white skin," he said, "has been defaced. My beautiful trunk has
been lacerated as with jagged nails.
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