A DRY SHOWER BATH.
Deacon. O, she had real good luck. Madam Mooney told how she managed with hern. She had made a large oiled silk hood, with a large cape to it, like a fisherman’s in a storm, that came all down over her shoulders.
Doctor (impatiently). She’s a fool for her pains. That’s not the way.
Deacon. So my wife thought.
Doctor. And your wife did nothing of the kind, I hope.
Deacon. O, no, no. My wife, she used an umbrilly.
