"Oh those are the things I know perfectly," said the Lady. "All the nice gentle in-door things."
Our Uncle Peter began to strut again.
"Oh pshaw!" he said. "It's only the outdoor things that are really important,—how to climb mountains, how to stop a runaway horse,—how to smother a grass fire!"
It put the Lady all in a flutter.
"Oh pshaw!" said our Uncle Peter. "That's nothing!—The very first instant you hear the maddened hoofs on the pavement you place yourself thus! And THUS!—And——"
The Lady tried to explain to him the difference between a morning and an evening prayer. "Now at night, of course," she explained, "everything is so very lonely that—"
Our Uncle Peter didn't seem to care at all how lonely it was.
"The instant you see the horses's blood-red nostrils,—JUMP!" cried our Uncle Peter.
It sounded pretty muddled to me.
"Personally," insisted the Lady, "I consider a rather soft sponge best for the neck."