adow and
eat grass, what could you do but courteously decline the invitation?

"I'm really most obliged to you, Oliver," said Doggie, finally. "But our
ideas are entirely different. You're primitive, you know. You seem to
find your happiness in defying the elements, whereas I find mine in
adopting the resources of civilization to defeat them."

"Which means," said Oliver, rudely, "that you're afraid to roughen your
hands and spoil your complexion."

"If you like to put it that way."

"You're an [v]effeminate little creature!" cried Oliver, losing his
temper. "And I'm through with you. Go sit up and beg for biscuits."

"Stop!" shouted Doggie, white with sudden anger, which shook him from
head to foot. He marched to the door, his green silk dressing-gown
flapping about him, and threw it wide open.

"This is my house," he said. "I'm sorry to have to ask you to get out of
it."

And when the door was shut on Oliver, he threw himself, shaken, on the
couch, hating Oliver and all his works more than ever. Go about barefoot
and swab decks! It was madness. Besides being dangerous to health, it
would be excruciating discomfort. And to be insulted for not grasping at
such martyrdom! It was intolerable; and Doggie remained justly indignant
the whole day long.

II

Then the war came. Doggie Trevor was both patriotic and polite. Having a
fragment of the British army in his house, he did his best to make it
comfortable. By January he had no doubt that the empire was in peril,
that it was every man's duty to do his bit. He welcomed the newcomers
with open arms, having unconsciously abandoned his attitude of
superiority over mere brawn. It was every patriotic Englishman's duty
to encourage brawn. He threw himself heart and soul into the
entertainment of officers and men. They thought Doggie a capital fellow.

"My dear chap," one would protest, "you're spoiling us. I don't say we
don't like it and aren't grateful. We are. But we're supposed to rough
it--to lead the simple life. You're treating us too well."

"Impossible!" Doggie would reply. "Don't I know what we owe you fellows?
In what other way can a helpless, delicate being like myself show his
gratitude and in some sort of way serve his country?"

When the sympathetic guest would ask what was the nature of his malady,
Doggie would tap his chest vaguely and reply:

"Constitutional. I've never been able to do things like other fellows.
The least thing bowls me out."