"The monster."
"Light-headed yet," muttered Peter. But following Miss Limpenny's stare the brothers caught sight of Mr. Fogo simultaneously, and for the first time. Their mahogany faces grew sensibly paler.
"Well, this beats cock-fightin'!"
"Would you mind taking that lady away?" pleaded Mr. Fogo, through his chattering teeth; "I am very cold indeed, and wish to dress."
"Oh! that voice again," sobbed Miss Limpenny; "please tell him to go away."
Being nonplussed by these two appeals, Peter addressed his reply to his brother.
"I dunno, Paul, as we've a-got to the bottom o' this; but I reck'n Mr. Fogo's been a-lettin' hes principles take 'n too far. As for dislikin' womankind, 'tes in a way 'scuseable p'raps; but notices es wan thing, an' teasin' anuther."
"That's so, Peter. Ef 'tes a matter o' fash'n, tho', I dunno as we've any call to interfere, not knawin' what's what."
"Ef you plaise, sir," shouted Peter, "Paul an' me wants to know whether you be a-doin' et by way o' bein' fash'nubble?"
"I don't know what you mean. I only wish to be allowed to get at my clothes. I really am suffering considerably, being quite unused to these long immersions."