"Look out for my pants!"
"I say, Dink, your theory's wrong. You want to begin by parting your hair—soak it into place, you know."
Stover, struck by this expert advice, approached the mirror and seized his comb and brush with determination. But the liberties of a rebellious people, unmolested for sixteen years, were not to be suddenly abolished. The more he brushed the more the indignant locks rose up in revolt. He broke the comb and threw it down angrily.
"Wet your hair," said the Tennessee Shad.
"Soak it in water," said the Gutter Pup.
"Soak it in witch-hazel," said Dennis. "It will make it more fragrant."
"Won't it smell too much?"
"Naw. It evaporates."
Stover seized the bottle and inundated his head, made an exact part in the middle and drew the sides back in the fashion of pigeon wings.