ield came running, and eloquently put an end to Duke's winter
bath. When she had suggested this cleansing as a pleasant means of
passing the time, she assumed that it would take place in a washtub in
the cellar; and Penrod's location of the performance in her own bathroom
was far from her intention.

Penrod found her language oppressive, and, having been denied the right
to rub Duke dry with a bath-towel--or even with the cover of a table in
the next room--the dismal boy, accompanied by his dismal dog, set forth,
by way of the kitchen door, into the dismal weather. With no purpose
in mind, they mechanically went out to the alley, where Penrod leaned
morosely against the fence, and Duke stood shivering close by, his
figure still emaciated and his tail absolutely withdrawn from view.

There was a cold, wet wind, however; and before long Duke found his
condition unendurable. He was past middle age and cared little for
exercise; but he saw that something must be done. Therefore, he made
a vigorous attempt to dry himself in a dog's way. Throwing himself,
shoulders first, upon the alley mud, he slid upon it, back downward;
he rolled and rolled and rolled. He began to feel lively and rolled
the more; in every way he convinced Penrod that dogs have no regard
for appearances. Also, having discovered an ex-fish near the Herman and
Verman cottage, Duke confirmed an impression of Penrod's that dogs have
a peculiar fancy in the matter of odours that they like to wear.

Growing livelier and livelier, Duke now wished to play with his
master. Penrod was anything but fastidious; nevertheless, under the
circumstances, he withdrew to the kitchen, leaving Duke to play by
himself, outside.

Della, the cook, was comfortably making rolls and entertaining a caller
with a cup of tea. Penrod lingered a few moments, but found even his
attention to the conversation ill received, while his attempts to
take part in it met outright rebuff. His feelings were hurt; he passed
broodingly to the front part of the house, and flung himself wearily
into an armchair in the library. With glazed eyes he stared at shelves
of books that meant to him just what the wallpaper meant, and he
sighed from the abyss. His legs tossed and his arms flopped; he got up,
scratched himself exhaustively, and shuffled to a window. Ten desolate
minutes he stood there, gazing out sluggishly upon a soggy world. During
this time two wet delivery-wagons and four elderly women under