“Doubtless,” replied Madame, arranging a napkin carefully over her fichu, and dealing rigorously with some mayonnaise sauce. “It has been our perpetual companion for many years, mus amicus humano generi.”
Sir Tiglath swelled, and Mrs. Merillia responded,—
“I see, a pet. Is it white?”
“No, ma’am,” returned Mr. Sagittarius, “it is a rich, chocolate brown except on wet days. Then it takes on the hue of a lead pencil.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Merillia, trying nobly to remain social. “How very curious!”
“We worship it in summer,” continued Mr. Sagittarius. “In the sultry season it soothes and calms us.”
“Then it is quite tame?”
“At that time of year, but in winter nights it is sometimes almost wild.”
“Ah, I daresay. They often are, I know.”
“The architects and their wives love it as we do.”