ulders had been washed and rubbed and
massaged and lotioned and parboiled and anointed and fomented and
capsicon-plastered, till his very soul was sensitive and a suspicion
was agrowl within him--a bad, mean feeling that Dolly was finding a bit,
just a bit, of something akin to pleasure in the ardor of her
ministrations. Besides, he was fighting a moral fight of his own. Great
bursts of dissatisfaction swept through him every day now; and it was
only by a constant vigilance that he kept his vagrant elbows close
to his ribs.

"Let them be for a while, Dolly," he repeated in gentler tone.
"Besides--besides----"

But he left unsaid the thought following the "besides." "Now, dear," said
Dolly, kindly, but with a certain firmness; "you've simply got to let me
see what I can do. Why, Goosie, you can't go on in this way! You'd be
getting humps on your back! No--no; we'll try a nice little ice-pack
to-night."

"I don't want any ice-packs!" yelped Charles-Norton (what a bad-mannered
young man he had become!); "I'm tired of fomentations and things!
Besides"--and this time the besides did not pause, but burst out of him
like a stream from a high-pressure hydrant--"besides, it isn't what I
want----" And to an irresistible impulse his right hand reached out for a
brush and, crossing over to his left shoulder, began rubbing it
vigorously.

"Goosie, Goosie, my clothes-brush, my best clothes-brush!"

But the lament in Dolly's voice had little effect upon Charles-Norton. He
was brushing himself with grave concentration. "Get the flesh-brush," he
mumbled between set teeth, rubbing the while; "Gee, this feels good. Get
the pack to-night."

Dolly ran into the bath-room and returned with the flesh-brush;
Charles-Norton made an exchange without losing a stroke. "That's
something like it," he murmured.

"But, Goosie," began Dolly. Her voice was low now; she stood withdrawn
from him as if a bit afraid; her hands were clasped and her lips
trembled. "Goosie, dear; don't do that. Oh, don't; you'll hurt yourself.
It's getting all red, Goosie. You're rubbing the skin off, I tell you.
Why, it's almost bleeding--Goosie, Goosie, stop it, stop it!"

"Feels lots better," he said unfeelingly. "Look at it." And transferring
the brush to his left hand, he began to rub the right shoulder, raising
his left for Dolly's inspection.

She approached timidly. "You've rubbed all the poor skin off," she
announced. "It's bleeding." He felt the light touc