While he sputtered Wellington was flipping water over his hot head and incidentally over Ashton.
"I feel," he chortled, "I feel like the first little robin redbreast of the merry springtime. Tweet! Tweet!"
When the excitement over his redemption had somewhat calmed, Ashton reopened the old topic of conversation:
"Well, I see they had another scrap last night."
"They—who?" said Ira, through his flying toothbrush.
"The Mallorys. Once more he occupied number three and she number seven."
"Well, well, I can't understand these modern marriages," said Little Jimmie, with a side glance at Ira. Ira suddenly remembered the plight of the Mallorys and was tempted to defend them, but he saw the young lieutenant himself just entering the washroom. This was more than Wellington saw, for he went on talking from behind a towel:
"Well, if I were a bridegroom and had a bride like that, it would take more than a quarrel to send me to another berth."
The others made gestures which he could not see. His enlightenment came when Mallory snapped the towel from his hands and glared into his face with all the righteous wrath of a man hearing his domestic affairs publicly discussed.
"Were you alluding to me, Mr. Wellington?" he demanded, hotly.