“But I can’t throw away perfectly good clothes,” protested George.
“They’re not ‘good’ any more,” laughed John. “Throw them away.”
“Burn them if you like,” suggested Fred. “Do anything you want with them, only get rid of that smell. You can’t come near us until you do.”
“Is that so?” demanded George and he took a few steps forward. “Who says I can’t come near you?”
“Don’t do it, Pop, don’t do it,” begged Grant. “If you only knew how you smelled.”
“I do know; don’t worry about that. It follows me wherever I go.”
“Please don’t come near us,” exclaimed Grant as George still moved towards them.
“I thought I’d come over and hug Fred,” said George. “He’s so pleased about it all that it seems only fair that I should share the smell with, him.”
“You stay away!” cried Fred in alarm. “Don’t you touch me. Don’t come within forty rods of any of us.”
“Oh, Fred,” grinned George mischievously, “don’t run away from me. I just want to show you how fond of you I am.”