“I was once,” I confessed, “but I think under Polydore régime I am getting stoical enough to follow in Huldah’s footsteps and go her one better.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Diogenes.
Silvia screamed.
Turning to see what the latest Polydore 34 perpetration might be, I saw that Diogenes was frothing at the mouth.
“Oh, he’s having a fit!” exclaimed Silvia frantically. “Call Huldah! Put him in a hot bath. Quick, Lucien, turn on the hot water.”
“Not I,” I refused grimly. “Let him have a fit and fall in it.”
“He ain’t got no fit,” was the cheerful assurance of Pythagoras, as he sauntered in.
“Your mother would have one,” I told him, “if she could hear your English.”
“What is the matter with him?” asked Silvia. “Does he often foam in this way?”
“He’s been eating your tooth powder,” explained Pythagoras. “He likes it ’cause it tastes like peppermint, and then he drank some water before he swallowed the powder and it all fizzed up and run out his mouth.”