The last straw breaks the camel's back. The last indignity on his wig proved too much for Isaac Mole, for he had until that fatal day at the magician's, been fondly hugging himself in the delusion that the secret was all his own.
The talk was tortured and twisted about so as to make it bear upon the sorest subject for the poor old gentleman.
"Dash my wig, Mr. Mole!" Harvey would say; "let's take a short country excursion. You know the advantages of change of hair."
If a suggestion were wanting for the dinner of the day, a voice was ready to advocate "jugged hare."
"That's very well," said Harkaway, "but where can you get one in these parts?"
"That's it," chimed in Harvey; "as Mrs. Glasse says, first catch your hair, eh, Mr. Mole?"
Mole winced.
"It's not always easy to catch it, is it, Mr. Mole?" said Harry Girdwood, slyly.
"Not if it flies too high," said young Jack.
This chaff goaded poor old Mole to fury, coming as it did from the boys.