"Ya been to see Miss Cathby?" Dib squawked in a voice that would have maddened a sheep. "Did Miss Cathby give ya a bathby?"
Harky shifted the bridle rein from his right hand to his left. Effecting a gait that was supposedly a caricature of Miss Cathby's feminine walk, and was remarkably similar to the waddle of a fat goose, Dib came toward him.
"Ya been to see—?" he began.
They were near enough. Harky's right fist flicked out.
"Ya-ooo!" Dib shrieked.
Harky danced happily on. No day was wholly wasted if it left Dib Heglin nursing a bloody nose.
